


so the two crosses we bear become one

by capra, chupacabra (butyoumight), running_with_luck



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Arranged Marriage, High Fantasy AU, M/M, PTSD is a bitch, We're dorks, Wuxia AU, clothing is based on program costumes, just keep looking for the easter eggs, knife shoes appreciation society, knife shoes senior circuit, ksas, kssc, many more characters, more everything, so many interrupted kisses, so's chronic illness, there's dozens of them, this is gonna be huge, we already have 6 digits of words written for this ok, we know, we really do love these boys but they just...suffer so pretty...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2019-09-22 17:54:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 48,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17064374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capra/pseuds/capra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/butyoumight/pseuds/chupacabra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/running_with_luck/pseuds/running_with_luck
Summary: Two princes, two kingdoms, one peace to keep.  One marriage will make it happen, or so their countries tell them. They've never met each other, but that's hardly an obstacle on the road to peace, is it?An arranged marriage AU.High Fantasy worldbuilding + Wuxia plottiness and a touch of mysticism + telenovela-level plot absurdity. Hopefully, we can navigate all of this silliness with true characterization and heart, and make it all worthwhile for you.





	1. the princes, wed

## ♔ Chapter One: The Princes, Wed ♔

The war had been won. Imperial Praeludium had lost to the island country of Tzigane, and as per the negotiations of their surrender, a wedding was required to maintain peace. Bound not by gender, but by their status, the eldest of Praeludium was to wed the youngest of Tzigane.

And so Shoma Uno, the eldest son of King Uno of Tzigane, had the right and honor of being wed to the youngest son of Praeludium, fifth in line to its throne: Nathan Chen.

The wedding ceremony took place in the cathedral hall of Nessun Dorma Castle, the seat of power in Tzigane and Shoma’s family home. From the vaulted doors at the cathedral’s rear, all the way up to the pulpit, a broad, lush carpet in royal blue covered the stone floor and sliced the attendance of the wedding neatly in two. But this was no average wedding, and the who’s-who of Tzigane filled every seat. Heads of royal families, dukes and duchesses, and anyone with status - or the ambition to toady for it - filled the pews on both sides of the aisle.

Just to the side of the pulpit where their union would be confirmed, Shoma stood at attention. He wore his most formal attire, the ceremonial uniform of the crown prince. The color of his country, a brilliant royal blue, covered most of his torso, and thickly beaded baroque scrollwork of gold flowed from his collar and across his shoulders. The king and queen, his father and mother, stood to one side of the altar, while his brother Itsuki stood on the other. Despite so many people being near him, Shoma felt quite alone.

Despite this, Shoma stood carefully at attention for this serious ceremony, outwardly projecting calm. It was imperative that this went smoothly, for the sake of his people, and the ensuing peace that would come to both countries upon the certification of the marriage. But despite all those pressures, a different one weighed most heavily on his mind. Soon, he would see his future husband for the very first time, and if he was going to be honest with himself... He was very nervous.

Shoma opened his hands to flex them, before again closing his left palm over his right fist, holding them at ease in front of his body. The pose was meant to simulate the position of restful power of standing with your longsword before you, hands on its pommel, and as Shoma’s father had informed him, that was the confidence with which he was to enter this union, and play his role in ensuring Praeludium’s obeyance to the pact of surrender.

Shoma couldn’t find within himself any of that kind of confidence, though he was certainly trying. What if Nathan hated him? Shoma _was_ sort of the reason Nathan was here in the first place. Well, that and the war, obviously. The war hadn't been his idea, but he was definitely involved. And when the Tzigane war room had transformed into a council of negotiation, Shoma had tried to reason with his father on the matter.  But tradition was stronger than objection, and the negotiations swiftly concluded. Shoma cared little for his own fate. Being the eldest meant doing things he disliked, and he was willing to fulfil that role without complaint. But Nathan... Would he feel the same?

What if they couldn't understand each other? There was the Common tongue of course - the royal families of all the kingdoms spoke it for purposes of diplomacy and negotation. But the native languages of Nathan’s country was very different to that of Shoma’s.

And what if Shoma wasn't tall enough to kiss him? Did Nathan even want to be kissed?

Something caught Shoma's eye, derailing his thoughts. Which was, perhaps, a blessing at this moment. Shoma's cousin, a true and good friend by blood and more than blood, Yuzuru Hanyu, was waving to him from the front row of spectators. His sleeves, one white, one aquamarine, bounced gayly as he gestured far too exuberantly for such a somber setting. As was typical of him, he seemed not only unconcerned but perhaps even unaware of the attention, ranging from bemusement to bald irritation, that he was drawing to himself.

He was utterly silly. And that silliness summoned the ghost of a smile to Shoma's lips. Somehow, Yuzuru’s irreverence put his mind at ease. Though everything seemed about to change for him, Shoma remembered, now, that there would also continue to be constants in his life, people and comforts whose presence, and importance, would not be eclipsed by his mystery spouse. Later, when he had the chance, Shoma resolved to thank his friend.

The crack of iron on wood, and the groan of six massive ironwrought hinges, drew the attention of every soul in the cathedral to the back of the nave. As the guests twisted in their seats, angling for a first glimpse of their crown prince’s barbarian husband-to-be, Shoma felt his spine seize with icy anxiety.

Excited murmurs rolled through the crowd like a tide, and Shoma stood up as tall as possible, his stomach suddenly filled with butterflies. It was time.

Drums thundered and brightly polished horns accompanied the royal choir as they opened their throats, shouting their brassy announcement to the rafters. The Low Prince of Praeludium, fiance of Tzigane’s Crown Prince, emissary of the marital pact to end the war, Nathan Chen, had arrived.

  
♔  


In the end, it wasn't countries that won wars. It wasn't weapons and troops. It was alliances. In the end, Tzigane had more allies, better connections. That was what made the difference, and that, ultimately, was what brought Nathan to this place, standing in the royal palace of Tzigane, facing the doors of their royal cathedral, about to be wed to a man he had never met.

_“Look at it this way.” Jason had said, wrapping one of Nathan's curls around his finger and giving it a friendly tug. “At home, you're only a prince, and a young one at that. This way, one day you're going to be king.”_

_“King of a nation that will probably always hate me.” Nathan returned, twisting away from Jason's teasing fingers. They were good friends, and Nathan was going to miss him. “If I even manage to outlive his father.”_

Praeludium was a matriarchal society, and with two older sisters, not to mention his mother the Empress being perfectly healthy, Jason was right. There had been no real place in the palace for Nathan. At best, he might have been able to marry a strong and beautiful woman in case of the sort of absolute disaster that had only ever happened once in their recorded history, the eradication of nearly the entire Imperial family.

Instead, he'd gone to war. Not by choice, far from it. But at a certain point you start to think that any glory for country is a worthwhile cause. And the war was going to happen, with or without him. So off he'd gone.

“Bring our two houses together,” his father had said, when the war was through and the concession and terms of surrender were being hammered out. It was magnanimous of his father, Nathan thought, to frame the command as if Praeludium had any choice in the matter. As the defeated nation, they were obligated to give up a child of their ruling family to the victorious one. And while, true, they could have sent either of his other two brothers instead, the council - and his father - had chosen Nathan.

The true meaning of his role in the peace negotiations was clear. _‘This is about all you're good for now.’_ But the words were never said aloud, despite the volume with which their silent existence filled the concession chambers. It was left to the hissing, insidious voice in the back of his mind to remind him of that fact, of the ghastly limits of his usefulness now that the war was ended. _Sold into marriage,_ it murmured to him, and he wondered why it sounded so accusatory. Surely one marriage was a blessedly cheap price to pay for the safety of hundreds of thousands of Praeludian lives?

Now, as the cathedral doors opened, the soldiers who flanked him on either side stepped back, allowing him to enter ahead of them. _Were_ they soldiers, Nathan wondered, finding his mind wandering from the moment as if to avoid its immediacy, its weight. Or were these men in dress uniform his chaperones? ...Jailers? Nathan wasn't sure yet where he stood with the people of Tzigane. Was he a prince, or a prisoner, or simply a prize their crown prince had won at war?

As he took his first steps into the cathedral, Nathan found himself a bit taken aback. The audience gathered to attend this ceremony seemed preternaturally serene, cool and calm, just by virtue of the colors they wore: rich blues, purples and whites. Not a hint of red anywhere that he could see -- but he'd have to get used to that. He imagined he wouldn’t be seeing much red anywhere anymore.

Red, the color of the Imperial House of Praeludium. The rich, sanguine color of the tunic he wore now. The red, truly a crimson so full it looked bloody, was richly embellished with golden braid laid in thick bars and medallions across his shoulders, chest, and between his shoulderblades. A flash of midnight blue, circling the medallion of rank on his chest, was the only color that made sense in this crowd, and it was small enough he doubted anyone but he himself would notice it, not when there was so much Praeludian red to fill their attention.  As if the color wasn’t enough, Nathan knew his uniform tunic set him apart in more ways than hue; its split tails fell past his hip, longer than the Tzigane fashion, belted at the waist.

Nathan walked forward, conscious to measure his pace slowly, deliberately. He timed his steps to the music, using the cadence to conceal, as much as he was able, his limp. Slight though it was, it was an injury sustained in battle against Tzigane troops. Against men whose families might, Nathan realized with some amount of numb horror, be seated in this very cathedral, watching him marry into their royal family. Though he hadn’t realized it at the time, his injury had sealed his fate in more ways than he could have imagined. The greatest of these, perhaps, was to now stand here, the youngest, now weakest, son of his nation, brought as a peace offering into this chilling blue sea.

To the Tzigane attendance, it may have seemed that the bold royal blue of the carpet beneath his feet helped to guide Nathan as he walked, pulling him smoothly forward without any need for prompting from the soldiers shepherding him. But his eyes were on the altar. He knew the faces of the royal family into which he was about to be wed, but he'd never met a single one of them in person. And just as his eyes were on them, they all watched his approach with such calm and chill reserve that he believed, in those moments, he’d never get used to it.

Finally, as he reached the base of the altar’s steps, he allowed himself to look properly at his soon-to-be spouse. Shoma was small, that was the first thing that caught his eye, with a severe expression that didn't quite reach his eyes. He looked - and Nathan could only hope he wasn't projecting, but to him - Shoma looked _nervous_.

That was fine by Nathan. He was nervous too.

Nathan ascended the steps with as much grace as his not-quite-healed leg would allow him to do. Then, carefully following the lessons his mother and sisters had coached him in before he sailed to Tzigane, he knelt before the crown prince. The prince soon to be his husband. And, head bowed, he offered both hands, palms up, for Shoma to take.

  
♔  


Beautiful.

Shoma’s breath caught in his chest at the first glimpse of his future husband. Nathan's colors, the color of his home, stood out amongst the cool colors of Tzigane, and of the raiment of other nations’ royals, assembled in visitation and witness of the treaty marriage. As the gold and red decoration on Nathan’s chest flashed under the lights of the cathedral, Shoma was reminded of the first leaves of autumn, and their vivid, sometimes shocking hues. These colors meant change -- sometimes welcomed, sometimes not, but always considered beautiful.

All eyes stayed on Nathan, following him as he walked down the aisle, watching his every movement like it was a play, and though Nathan’s head didn’t turn, Shoma could see Nathan's gaze flicking here and there, taking note of everything he could. This must be a lot to take in all at once. The tension in the air was staggering.

 _It wouldn't be, if Yuzuru were in my place,_ whispered a sullen voice in the back of Shoma’s mind, and he clenched his jaw in frustration at himself, at that traitorous thought. His cousin’s competence notwithstanding, Shoma was the crown prince. This was Shoma’s responsibility. Whether or not Yuzuru would do it better - and Shoma thought, perhaps, he would - was immaterial. This was Shoma’s duty.

Shoma knew the ceremony, knew what it entailed. He had practiced, coached by his attendants and his brother. But he didn't exactly feel comfortable being bowed to, by anyone. He hadn't earned it, and just existing as the eldest son didn't count in his mind. It probably never would. Nathan was subjecting himself to this defeat, and though it was the script they both came here to play, it still settled poorly on his conscience.

Shoma took Nathan's hands in his own gently, as though holding something fragile and precious. The clasp of their hands signaled the next step of the ceremony, and permitted Nathan to rise. Standing between them, with their clasped hands before him, the presiding monk began the recitation of the wedding, lifting his voice for the benefit of the entire cathedral.  Shoma couldn’t really concentrate on anything the man was saying.

_He feels warm._

"These are the hands that will passionately love you and cherish you through the years, for a lifetime of happiness..."

The monk prattled on. The long, drawn out words in Common might've put Shoma to sleep if his stomach wasn't so full - a thousand butterflies, all flapping about in alarm together. But the recitation was still quite boring, so Shoma took this opportunity to study Nathan's face. He looked so serious. He must have seen his own fair share of battles, but in his eyes... he looked nervous. Impulsively, Shoma cracked a very small, brief sympathetic smile.  


♔  
  


Shoma's hands felt cold, when the reached out to take Nathan's. He wasn't gripping hard, and it was with only the slightest pressure that he indicated for Nathan to rise. Nathan lifted his head, first, and while it wasn't entirely part of the procedure or ceremony, he took a moment to meet Shoma's eyes. Partly it was to hopefully distract him from how his bad leg shook when he rose to his feet. But partly it was just because he was hoping to see past the severity of Shoma's garb and the thin-set line of his mouth. To see if that nervousness he thought he'd seen was really there.

Maybe. It was hard to tell. The monk presiding over them had a very strong Tzigane accent in the way he spoke Common. It was strange to Nathan's ears and some of the words didn't sound familiar to him, and he’d given up on following along with every note of the ceremony. Probably it didn't matter. Even if he was to be asking him questions or expected to give vows, it was all a production for the populace they stood in front of. Nathan knew that unless he lost his mind -- attacking Shoma, or something absurd like that -- he was a part of this royal family now. Prince, prisoner, pet, prize. One way or any other, this was his home now.

Nathan reflexively gave Shoma's hands a tentative little squeeze, searching his eyes and face for the comfort he suddenly desperately needed to find there.

And -- Shoma smiled. Nathan was sure of it. It didn't last, it was small and tentative and gone too soon, but it was... Beautiful. So beautiful. It took Nathan's breath away.

Surely that wasn't a normal response to seeing a stranger’s smile. But not much of this felt normal. This, under all the politics, all the expectation and treaties and the near memory of war, was an arranged marriage. At its root, this was nothing but a union of strangers. And that, a bond without love, wasn't something Nathan would have chosen for himself, had he the chance.

But as the monk held aloft a strip of silvered leather to show to the audience, then brought it down to start winding their hands and wrists together, Nathan reached a decision. The leather was soft, scented of myrrh, and it tugged on the skin of his wrist as the monk bound it tight. Shoma’s palms were hot in his. Nathan watched the leather wrap around, watched as rough knots tied his fate to that of this small, unfamiliar man, and decided that he was willing to do a _lot_ to see that smile again.

  
♔  


Nathan seemed to sway some when he stood, and it concerned Shoma. Was he light headed? Hurt? He had been told that Nathan had fought in the war itself, so maybe he had been injured. Shoma made a note of this, squeezing Nathan’s hands in return. They could both use some encouragement, it seemed. When this was over, Shoma reminded himself, they could have a long talk in private, away from watchful eyes. Shoma didn't enjoy being in the spotlight like this, even though he willingly endured it, as one of the functions of his role as crown prince.

A brief exchange of scripted vows passed, almost without thought. Shoma had not had any hand in writing them, and he was certain Nathan hadn’t either. He was also certain that of everyone gathered in this cathedral, they two might be the only ones who were bothered by that. Shoma repeated after the monk as he was expected to do, florid words of promise and devotion, and listened with fascination as Nathan repeated the same promises in his turn. His Praeludium accent was fascinating. Shoma cursed himself for not learning the language.

Finally, with their left hands bound, rings for their right were presented. Fresh anxiety swelled to life in Shoma’s breast and he couldn’t couldn't fully conceal the tremor in his hand as he placed the delicate gold band on Nathan's finger, and Nathan slipped the matching one onto his own. He knew what came next.

"On behalf of all those present, and by the strength of your own love, I pronounce you married. You may seal your vows with a kiss."

_Oh no..._

Did he have to stand on his toes? Would Nathan come to him? Shoma stepped closer, silently apologetic for his extreme lack of experience. It just had to be a brief brushing of lips, right? He could do this. He craned his neck and leaned in to meet Nathan halfway.

  
♔  
  


Hands bound, it was time for vows, and Nathan was relieved to recognize that he could follow the progression from this point pretty completely, despite not only the monk’s thick Tzigane accent, but the odd metaphors which comprised the Tzigane vows. They compared marriage to a sea voyage, commitment to a river's natural path. Nathan had never been on a boat before his trip here. Seafaring just wasn't a significant part of the life of any Praeludian.

But though the vows made little sense to him, Nathan repeated them with careful focus, because the vows were hardly the point. This marriage - _his_ marriage - isn’t meant to be about culture, or choice. Its purpose was duty: to his country, to his family. And now, to his Prince.

While they might on paper appear equally ranked, Shoma was certainly the superior in every way that mattered. Birth order, age, and line of succession. Nathan was an outsider here. So he did his best to keep his weight on his good leg, and repeat the vows with as neutral an accent in his Common as he could muster. He wasn't sure how successful he was -- he certainly heard some parts of the crowd shift, saw Shoma's brother's eyes flicker slightly as he stumbled over a letter that had no proper counterpart in his mother tongue.

Shoma's hands were trembling in Nathan's, and kept doing so even as they were each presented with a ring to place upon the other's finger. Nathan was careful to hold very still, afraid that Shoma might drop the ring. Something about this prince, not so very much older than him, but with so much more responsibility, triggered the same part of Nathan's mind that had made him such a capable soldier. A desire to protect those around him.

Not, he thought, that Shoma needed protecting. Not from him, anyway. But still, the thought was there all the same, so he did what he could to make the exchange of the rings go smoothly. And he slipped Shoma’s onto his finger with as gently firm of a touch as he could, conveying with his hands that Shoma could rely on him in this moment.

Last, the kiss. And this, he was prepared for.

What Nathan did next, he was quite sure was unorthodox. Maybe even a mistake. But he did it all the same, when he saw the tendons in Shoma's neck stand out as he tilted his head back. He reached out and slipped his free arm around Shoma's waist. The deep blue fabric was luxuriously thick to the touch, caressing Nathan’s palm as Nathan caressed the small of Shoma's back, curling around the far side. He bent down, just a little bit, and just as easily, lifted Shoma lightly to bring their lips together. It was not Nathan's first kiss. But he could tell that it might be Shoma's.

This wasn't so different from the other kisses Nathan had shared. Though most of those had been with women, he'd kissed a man or two in his time. Affection was freer in Praeludium, and the absence of that here in Tzigane was something else he'd have to get used to. Shoma made a soft sound of surprise against Nathan's lips, and it was echoed by some others in the hall -- enough people, or people close enough to them for Nathan to hear and recognize that he had done something unexpected. Perhaps mildly scandalous.

Well, there was no taking it back now. So after maintaining the light pressure of their lips together for a silent count of three, he pulled away. Released his hold on Shoma's waist, and stood straight again. Nathan tucked his now free hand into the small of his back at a soldier's ready, and reflexively gave Shoma's hand another little squeeze. Less tentative this time, more... Reassuring.

  
♔  
  


Now, most Tzigane traditions place great value on reservation and restraint. "Keep your hands to yourself" was general advice, not just for art museums and dinner plates. Shoma wasn't as nearly familiar with the traditions of Praeludium as he was the stuffiness of his homeland, but even so, there was a certain range of behavior he was anticipating, in front of these hundreds of eyes, standing upon an altar with the weight of two nations on their shoulders.

Nathan...defeated that expectation entirely. An involuntary, soft noise of surprise fell from Shoma’s lips into Nathan’s -- which he felt was utterly warranted, along with the redness of in his cheeks, because this embrace was - was just about as subtle as if Nathan had dipped Shoma entirely back over to kiss him!

Not to mention, Nathan's lips were soft. Far softer than Shoma had anticipated. Was this true of all men or was it just Nathan? Mind scrambling in several bewildered directions at once, Shoma almost missed the fact that the kiss had ended. Nathan had set him back on his own two feet, and now they were once again only connected by the silver leather strips of bondfasting.

His first kiss wasn't what he had hoped it would be, but it could have been much worse. This wasn't so bad.

And - he realized, as applause erupted throughout the cathedral, and the trumpets and drums and the voices of the choir announced the completion of their union - this was it. He was wed.

Shoma did his best to keep his balance and put up a brave front as they both turned to the audience. Together, with hands still tied together, Shoma walked with Nathan back down the aisle, relying on the strong muscle memory he formed by long practice of this part of the ceremony to keep him from missing a step. The royal family followed behind.

All in the cathedral stood. They cheered, stretched up on their toes, leaning and leering at the new minted couple from their places in the pews. As Shoma and Nathan proceeded through, the people around seemed more and more more like the audience of a performance and less like the dignified guests of honor they really were. In front of this crowd, Shoma felt like he was parading a prize he had conquered. As if Nathan were somehow the spoils of war and not a human person.  
  


♔  
  


Together they retraced Nathan's earlier steps, now bound together as one, back out of the hall. As they went, Nathan kept his grip on Shoma's hand snug within the wrapping of their bondfasting. Just tight enough to keep Shoma's fingers from trembling. He turned his head this way and that, flashing a winning smile at everyone who dared to hold his gaze. He wondered how many women in the crowd, how many other men even, had been vying for this place. How many of them must hate him, now.

A ghost of a smile crossed Nathan’s face as he considered how quickly he had fallen into this role. Wasn't he the one displaced from his home, an outsider being sold off like so much livestock? And yet, perhaps it was easier for him, to look at the strange solemn people with their blue clothes and shuttered expressions, and still see enemies. These were Shoma's people, he had to put up a brave face for them. Nathan had no such ties, and probably much less by way of expectation. These people in the hall were not commoners, were not the sort of soldiers that Nathan had fought in the field. He knew what the nobility of Tzigane thought of his home. That they were uncultured and wild, too loud and lacking in respect. That might be true, compared to these people. So, they looked at him, not as a prince in his own right, but merely as their prince's spouse, and maybe not the best choice for him at that.

A part of Nathan, the part that had made him a competent soldier, the part of him that thrived in adversity and was always driven to succeed -- That part of Nathan wanted to prove every one of them wrong. And on his own terms, as much as he possibly could.

They reached the doors, thrown open before them with a clatter of iron and stone.  Again the trumpets and drums swelled, now playing loudly enough for the whole courtyard, and below that the sprawling mass of commonfolk, to hear, as they announced for both their countries to witness: The Princes, Wed.

Shoma's hand twitched in Nathan's, the only outward sign he gave to how nervous he clearly was now, as they stepped forward to the edge of the courtyard’s buttressed balcony to present Nathan to the lower classes. It was not an unreasonable concern -- it could go either way. While the lower classes were unlikely to have hoped their children would gain the coveted seat at Shoma's side, they were also the ones who provided the soldiers that had fought Nathan's people in the fields. It was even possible that some of them had lost family members to Nathan’s own sword.

It was hard to tell, in this moment of apparent joy, which side of the walls was more dangerous for Nathan.  
  
♔

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is already hundreds of thousands of words written so far, so please don't be thrown off by the WIP status. You won't be left hanging.
> 
> This is a huge scale collaborative project between three of us:
> 
> V (running_with_luck) is in charge of Shoma, Itsuki, Tzigane worldbuilding  
> chupacabra (butyoumight) is in charge of Nathan, Team USA, Praeludium worldbuilding  
> and Capra (capra) is in charge of Yuzuru, many many NPCs, Evil Plot Twists, polishing, structure.
> 
> This story is based on a narrow range of cherrypicked personality qualities culled from our personal and very biased interpretations of the publically available personas of real human beings who are, we are QUITE certain, not similar at all to how they're depicted here.
> 
> In short, it's complete fiction.
> 
> Title taken from the translation of lyrics to "Cross My Heart" from Ceres: Celestial Legend, because if anyone knows how to write an absurd convoluted fantasy love story and still keep every viewer hooked and crying happy buckets, it's Watase Yuu-san.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments feed us :D


	2. the princes' carriage ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathan deserved to be treated with respect, but Shoma wasn't sure he trusted that the other nobility would respect Nathan anytime Shoma’s duty required his absence. So by god, if he had to overcompensate, he would. He knew how low the snakes slithered in the grass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody, remember me? WHOOPS. 
> 
> irl happened. but we back! or rather, this all has been written for forever, but ya girl EDITOR here (that's capra) finally got this shit POLISHED UP and ready to GO. so here we go...... a chapter of.....talking, and scenery.
> 
> as a reminder, this is fiction, based on selections of personality traits and tropes culled from the publically available personas of real people who are definitely not princes of epically rival warring kingdoms.
> 
> also! Tzigane is loosely based on, among other island nations, Japan! and so V is using some *very* simplified Japanese to represent Shoma's native tongue when he speaks it. if you see any awful errors of meaning (not counting an overuse of hiragana), please let us know!
> 
> also also! exciting news! Two Crosses has fanart!!! what the heck! thank you! we'll be including the fanart we receive for each chapter at the start of the next one. this week, we have a beautiful chibi art of the wedding ceremony as portrayed by Asma. thank Asma!

Full size: ( <https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/534021243498790932/536963075299868726/received_2016849388364162.jpeg> )

Thank you, Asma! 

`

`

##  ♔ Chapter Two: The Princes' Carriage Ride ♔

The large doors of the cathedral opened wide, revealing to the crowd outside their newly wedded prince and his new consort, accompanied by a loud, jubilant fanfare played by brassy trumpets and drums. A roaring wall of noise greeted them: eager cheers and shouts from every onlooker. Together the crowd’s voices became a nearly physical thing.

The roar near-deafened Shoma. It took mere seconds of this cacophony to completely overwhelm him. He wanted to just hide behind Nathan. 

But instead he politely waved to the people, lifting his free hand, the one Nathan wasn’t holding, and began to wave in such a strict and severe manner as they walked, guards rotating around them to keep the crowd parting for them, that he seemed to be made of clockwork. Nathan released Shoma's hand, but only so he could slip that arm around Shoma's waist to hold him closer, for reassurance.

At the base of the cathedral stairs, guards escorted them to the horse-drawn carriage waiting there, which would spirit them away from the crowds. The door was opened for them, and Nathan stepped patiently to one side, offering Shoma a shoulder to steady himself on as he climbed into the carriage.   


In an hour or two, a banquet in honor of their wedding was to begin. But for now, they had time to themselves - if only for a while. Shoma relaxed back against the seat of the carriage with a heavy sigh. Nathan followed after him, and the doors shut immediately, much to Nathan's surprise. He had expected at least one guard to ride with them. That was how it would have been for any of his sisters, back home. 

Instead, they were alone in the quiet dim inside the carriage, and around them a cheer went up from the crowd as the carriage began to move.

Nathan bowed his head, momentarily at a loss. He wasn't sure if he should speak first. Now that they were alone, he wasn't sure what to say.

Shoma could only speculate as to why the crowds cheered as they did. While Nathan himself was still considered an enemy of some kind, today, in this context, the people did not view Nathan or Shoma as people. War was exhausting. Lives were lost, often in horrible ways. This wedding wasn't for either Nathan or Shoma, but for the people. They were just visual representations, symbols, of the newborn peace which their marriage would secure and ensure. A tangible symbol of peace. Their enjoyment was entirely beside the point.

Shoma was more and more surprised by how impressively supportive Nathan continued to be. Shoma had started the day thinking that maybe Nathan would hate him, and instead, Nathan is here, holding his hand and waist to help him into the carriage.

Shoma drew the curtain of the small window closed further. He did not want to show his face anymore, mostly because he felt so very tired.  Several long moments stretched awkwardly between them, filled only by the sound of horse hooves on cobblestone and the din of the crowd fading away from them. Nathan remained silent, and Shoma struggled to decide how to speak. He wanted to know more about his husband. Even if this wasn’t their first choice, Shoma wanted this to at least be tolerable. For the both of them.

"あの... It's nice to finally meet you, Nasan." 

_ Oof _ . The  _ th  _ of Common was always hard for Shoma to wrap his tongue around. He gripped the fabric of his pants as he realized his error and immediately glanced away. Stupid. Idiot. He would surely be offended by that.

♔

_ Cute. _ Nathan couldn't help it. Sure, the Tzigane accent was strange to his ears, but it wasn't offensive. Language was language, and while he knew maybe three words, all told, of Tzigane proper, he knew enough of several other languages, those of the allies to his home. He knew that some sounds were different between languages, some letters pronounced differently. Some words even sounded the same but meant different things. So he wasn't offended by Shoma’s pronunciation. After all, he was sure he’d make a mess of some important Tzigane ritual before long.

Nathan’s gaze landed on Shoma's hands, where he had clenched a fistful of his pants. Then he looked up again, and tried to catch the prince's gaze.

"It's good, to meet you, as well." He said it carefully, trying to keep his voice soft. "I'm... Sorry, for this. It all happened very quickly, didn't it?"

Shoma dared to look back at Nathan again. HE was sorry? None of this was Nathan's fault. Heck, he should be the one apologizing! Nathan was very kind. Too kind, maybe.

"It did.” Shoma managed to smile, managed to relax just a bit.  "Are you enjoying it here so far? Is it... Very different?"

As he was deemed too important to the continuance of the family bloodline to allow risk to his life, Shoma had not been to Praeludium very recently. The chance for assassination there was too high. So, Praeludium remained a mystery about which he was curious, in large and small ways. Perhaps he could import something Nathan would like, to make his transition to life in Tzigane easier?

♔

There it was. Nathan exhaled, releasing tension he hadn't realised he held. Shoma's smile was back. It was even more tentative and cautious than it had been during the ceremony, but now it felt more genuine, too. (And it was just as beautiful.)

Nathan turned his head slightly, looking towards the window that Shoma had drawn the curtain over. He considered reaching over and pushing the curtain aside to look out, but Shoma had drawn it so purposefully, and Nathan couldn't blame him. These were his people, and they expected so much of him, such precision. Doubly so, considering how reserved Shoma’s people were, his family include. Nathan could only conclude that they expected that same sort of reserve from Shoma at all times, private as well as public. Surely, the ability to be alone (mostly alone) and relax was a precious commodity to him.

Nathan's home had many more neighbors than Tzigane did, and the borders were not overly fortified at that. While native Praeludian was the state language, and spoken almost exclusively among nobility, there were few people in the country that didn't speak Common at least conversationally. It was clearly different here, and it made the accent Shoma spoke with all the more endearing to Nathan since he had heard so little of it in his life, and never before spoken so gently. It made him want to return that gentleness in turn, both in how he spoke to Shoma, and the words and meaning he chose.

Nathan turned back to Shoma and tilted his head from side to side, considering. "I would be lying if I said no. It is very different. I'd... I've never been here before." He paused, considered what was possibly the most foolish and childish thing he could say, then decided to say it anyway. At worst, Shoma would think him an idiot-- and, well, he felt a bit like an idiot around these people anyway. At best, he might make Shoma smile again. Maybe even laugh. 

"There's so much water."

Delightfully, Shoma actually did chuckle, covering his mouth slightly with the side of his hand.

"It’s true."

♔

Shoma had noticed Nathan glance at the window. From the way the road felt beneath the carriage, he had an idea as to where they are, very familiar with the area. He peeked out the curtain to see.

The road they were taking was part of a less orthodox, longer route from the royal cathedral, away from the capital’s busy center, out toward Shoma’s actual  _ home _ . But there were numerous reasons for the choice. It was a harder route to track. And as they passed through the countryside, skirting the small towns around the capital, the residents there could see that the royal procession was passing by, and take heart that peace was made. So the carriage’s route meandered far from its simplest possible path, even far enough out that they began to pass by small rice paddy farms.

Shoma drew back the curtain of the window fully now that they had left the city behind. People still waved as they passed, small crowds of people come to see their Crown Prince pass by, but Shoma was willing to let them see him. He wanted Nathan to see where he would be living. The sun was shining, reflecting beautifully off the water between the vibrant, healthy rice plants. Today, everything looked much greener to Shoma's eyes.

"See? There is water even here too. There are many ponds and rivers. Fishing is very important here."

♔

Nathan found himself shifting to the edge of his seat, leaning closer to the window, peering out with poorly disguised curiosity. It wasn't unlike the tilled fields he was accustomed to from home, but the season in which wheat and barley grew green was short, so the wealth of rich green foliage in this landscape was shocking to him. His attention was caught by the flash of sun off the water between the rows of plants, and he marveled at it. There really was water everywhere in this country. 

Every now and then, someone they passed would look up from their work and wave to the carriage. Small crowds gathered at the edges of their villages, watching with quiet, intent focus, and Nathan reflexively found himself nodding acknowledgement to them and waving back. Maybe these people didn't hate him, after all. He spoke before he’d thought about it, a murmur made soft purely from wonder, not secrecy.

"It's beautiful."

♔

The sheer wonder in Nathan's eyes was amazing to see. An outsider's perspective - rare and, Shoma thought, precious in its rarity. He was getting excited to teach Nathan more about Tzigane, as much as he possibly could. To share all his favorite things about his homeland, its beauty in all its forms, with Nathan.

However, no amount of beauty could compare to how Nathan looked in that moment, Shoma thought. Nathan was unfairly beautiful. And Shoma’s  _ married  _ to him now, so it was a good thing he felt that way, wasn’t it? Shoma’s heart did a flip in his chest when he thought about what a moment alone between them, privacy behind closed doors, might entail. Then he remembered that they were, at that very moment, alone, behind closed doors, and decided to firmly shove those sorts of thoughts aside for the moment.

Shoma found Nathan's accent so interesting to listen to. While Shoma struggled with Common, it seemed to come more naturally to Nathan. His consonants were so firm and strong. Shoma wouldn't mind listening to Nathan talk for hours, he felt.

"What is Praeludium like?" Shoma leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "What did you do for fun?" Shoma was not so subtly asking questions so he could give his husband a gift of some kind. Something to woo him? Or at least let him enjoy his time here. Nathan deserved to be treated with respect, but Shoma wasn't sure he trusted that the other nobility would respect Nathan anytime Shoma’s duty required his absence. So by god, if he had to overcompensate, he would. He knew how low the snakes slithered in the grass.

♔

Nathan kept staring as the carriage moved on through the countryside, past farms and the people tending them. Waving, and marveling, and thinking he might be able to get used to living here. He would miss his home and his family and friends there, certainly. But for now, for now, this was where he belonged.

Secure in the knowledge that his union with the man sitting across from him was a significant, tangible symbol of peace; and the first hand knowledge of what the lack of peace meant, Nathan was resolved. He would do whatever he could, now, to keep this conversation as light and positive as he could. And by doing so, to set the tone for his union with Shoma. Even if it meant learning how to keep his emotions strictly controlled and off his face. Even if it meant never wearing red again, and learning to swim. 

"Hm?" Shoma had asked him a question, and it took Nathan a moment to track back and figure out what he'd said. He sat back in his seat, but left the curtain open, so light and fresh air could stream into the carriage. He liked the way the sunlight played across the gold embellishments on Shoma's chest.

"Praeludium? Drier, obviously." He said with a self-conscious little grin. "Not as mountainous. Er... I don't really know. I've been in the military for a few years now. I guess I don't really have any hobbies. I'm a pretty good archer. And I like to ride horses."

That all sounded very dull when he said it, and he ducked his head and looked up at Shoma through his curls. "I'm sorry. I suppose I'm not very interesting."

♔

Nathan had a very amusing wit. Shoma was used to the stiff, no-nonsense attitude most people had around him, so even the tiniest amount of sarcasm or jokes was a welcome breath of fresh air. His cousin and friend Yuzuru was usually the sole provider of those in Shoma’s life, followed by Shoma’s brother Itsuki. So Shoma smiled at the jab, even as slight as it was. This land was mostly water, even he knew that most places probably didn't have it the same, but he wasn't sure by how much. That the kingdom could thrive as it did was honestly a feat all by itself.

Shoma focused back on the conversation. He shook his head, smiling again, his eyes bright. "I disagree. I don’t find that boring at all. We have horses here, and I would love to see your archery for myself. I’ll arrange for you to ride." 

Shoma would give Nathan his own horse to ride. This would be the gift he would use to welcome Nathan into his new life. Meanwhile, Shoma would compartmentalize his knowledge about why and how Nathan had honed his talents for horsemanship and archery. Surely both had been used to kill Shoma’s people. And the scope of it, the lives lost at Nathan’s hands, was something Shoma did his best not to dwell on. Too much sorrow had plagued him of late - and their nations. What was done was done, and Nathan’s presence, here and now, was the first page of a new chapter for both of them. This should remain a happy occasion.

"Maybe, you could teach me a thing or two," Shoma said, watching Nathan’s body language, his gestures.  It took much of his willpower not to reach over and tug gently on one of the perfect curls Nathan had hidden his gaze behind. Every time Nathan moved or talked, all the biggest curls bounced temptingly. Was his hair as soft as it looked? Shoma wanted to find out, but he hesitated. He was married to Nathan, sure, but how welcome would touching even be? Shoma itched to find out, but felt it was still too soon to try.

♔

"A horse. That would be nice." Nathan spoke politely, but with complete honesty too. He loved to ride. He loved to shoot. And he loved most the idea of doing so in a time of peace. Using his few skills to impress his new husband, instead of to kill, was something to eagerly anticipate. But thoughts of riding once again drew his mind back in time, back to the last time he’d ridden, and his face fell with the memory.

Unconsciously, his hand fell to his bad leg, just below his hip, where bone and muscle ached with pain still months away from full relief. It wasn't a permanent injury, but he wasn't going to be quickly returning to full use of his leg, either. 

"I lost my charger in battle." Nemesis had taken an arrow to her haunch, and a sword across the opposing fetlock when she reared. Nathan's hip had been injured in the fall and subsequent weight of Nemesis pinning him down. Getting out from beneath her had only made matters worse, and having to put her down with his own sword to save her from suffering... 

Really, looking back, Nathan couldn't be surprised that the war had been decided that day.   

Shoma was genuinely sorry that Nathan had lost his horse in the war. His own horse was safe in the stable, having only ever seen battle from afar. He would have to arrange some kind of assortment for Nathan to choose from for his new companion. Shoma already had a few ideas, as he knew of several officers who had died and left their faithful beasts behind.

Nathan's hand on his thigh reminded Shoma that he had been unsteady during the ceremony, and suddenly he understood better why that was. Would it be too rude to pry further? Shoma was truly unsure about the limits to Praeludian conversation. So instead he spoke gently, trying to convey the sympathy he did feel.

"I'm sorry for your loss. She must have been a good friend."

“She was,” Nathan said.  He cleared his throat, rough, and was glad to find his voice barely shook at all. "I raised her from a foal."

Overwhelmed, Nathan looked away from Shoma, out the window. Someone outside the carriage waved as they passed, and Nathan had to look away from that, too. He felt uncomfortably exposed. But meeting Shoma's gaze was also impossible, so he just stared at his own knees, rubbing at the soreness of his bad leg, tugging a bit at the tails of his jacket. "...She was."

Nathan cut himself off brusquely before he could say more. Why had he brought that up? He had lost a dear friend then, to be sure. But he had also killed many of Shoma's subjects that day. What did one horse matter to Shoma’s loss?

In truth...what did  _ any  _ of this matter to Shoma, really? Shoma knew little about Nathan’s life, the friends he’d had and lost, the ones he left behind. But was any of it really important anymore, anyway? They were all in his past. Meanwhile, here in Shoma’s homeland, tossed into the middle of Shoma’s life, Nathan was going on about his lost connections without having recalled, even once, that Shoma  _ hasn’t _ had to give up his friends, his life. That they are very likely still where Shoma’s personal priorities lie. Not within this marriage of politics.

"I'm sorry." Nathan sighed. The field outside the window was broad and empty of people, and better than staring at his own hands. Nathan felt ashamed suddenly to meet Shoma's eyes. "I’m presuming a lot, aren’t I? I don't know if...  _ What  _ else... our marriage requires. But I want you to know that if you... already have people. That you'd rather spend time with, real friends. Or someone you... you already share your bed with. I will of course understand."

What was wrong with him? Why was he saying these things? There was typical Praeludian  bluntness, and then there was.... Whatever he was onto suddenly. Self-sabotage.

♔

Shoma felt his cheeks flush, quickly and darkly. Now that they were no longer under the gaze of a crowd, Shoma felt less nervous in  _ general _ , but that didn't make this particular conversation any less uncomfortable for him. Nathan seemed to think Shoma would carry on with his life as it had been before, without changing his priorities. He didn’t seem to think he’d be very important to Shoma. So how could Shoma begin to explain that he was already interested in Nathan even though they had just met?

He shook his head, trying to concentrate on one thing at a time.  "No, I... I have no one." Ugh, that sounded pathetic. Shoma rushed to explain, to try to make that sound less...bad. It didn’t exactly work.

"Unless you object, I  _ would _ like... to... share a bed with you. O-only if you wish!" He added quickly. He was sure he was blushing as red as Nathan’s uniform. "I want you to be happy here, even if the situation isn't. And I think..." 

Shoma tilted his head, struggling to find the right translation, the right words. He gripped his hands tighter together, looking at them instead of Nathan. "You are... very..."

"Beautiful." It was the closest word he could think of to explain how he felt about Nathan.

Not that he was entirely  _ hoping _ that Nathan would sleep with him, but he wasn’t  _ not _ , either. Nathan was handsome to a truly dangerous degree, and though Shoma was expected to have at least one child someday in his future, down the road, that was hardly a factor to worry about for now. All of which, of course, wasn’t important at all if Nathan wasn’t also interested. It was embarrassing, but Shoma would rather be honest with Nathan to begin with, telling him straightforwardly how he feels right from the start.

♔

"Oh.  _ Oh.  _ Th-thank you." The stammer in Nathan's voice wasn't something he could restrain. His stomach feels twisted into knots. Not because he's opposed to Shoma's words, or the unspoken implication beneath them. Quite the opposite. The idea of seeing more of Shoma, both physically and in other ways, brought a heat to Nathan's cheeks. 

But then... Shoma could certainly be offering these compliments from a sense of duty. He could be lying, of course, saying something he thinks Nathan would want to hear, or would put him at his ease.

"I'm sorry." Nathan said again, letting out a shaky breath. "I'm very sorry. What must you think of me..." He cleared his throat, and tried hard to focus, to make himself calm down. To think before speaking. It only kind of worked.

"Shoma. You are also very beautiful. And I'm... touched that you feel that way about me. Or are willing to. I'm afraid I'm being very crass with you. I'm not used to your culture. But that's no excuse. I'd like... To try. To be better."

♔

_ Cute _ . That stammer was cute. How old was Nathan again? Shoma couldn't recall. There had been a lot said in a very short amount of time when he was informed of the arranged marriage. Shoma vaguely remembered Nathan was younger than himself, but by how much, he wasn't sure.

Nathan continued to be nervous and now Shoma was starting to see bits and pieces of the real Nathan. Behind the poise and red tunic of his people, he was so anxious... What did Shoma think of Nathan?

Shoma couldn't resist any longer. He dared to reach across and place a hand over Nathan's, the one that continued to rub his leg so much. Did it hurt him so? He would have to have it looked at by the royal family doctor, properly, once they arrived.

Very gently, Shoma lifted Nathan's hand away from its worried path of rubbing and held it in both his own. He took a moment to center himself, examining and admiring the hand he held.  Nathan’s slim fingers were heavily calloused, but still nimble. They had probably taken lives of soldiers Shoma personally knew. But they had also bandaged the wounded and saved lives. Shoma couldn't bring himself to be mad at Nathan for a war he didn't start. But, if anything, Nathan had every right to hate Shoma, for winning the war in which Nathan had struggled so long.

"I think... I like you. You seem honest. I like what I have seen of you. I can teach you our culture. What... do you think of me?"

♔

Nathan wasn't used to being... so focused on like this. Sure, he was always under more scrutiny, just by virtue of his name, his position. But as the youngest, and a son at that, he had always been able to sort of blend in, dodging the worst of the scrutiny afforded the Praeludian royal family. Get on with his life, mistakes and all. 

But suddenly, in the space of just a few days, he stood out in a way he had never anticipated even being possible. His accent, his unfamiliarity with the Tzigane language and culture and customs, even his clothes, marked him as an outsider, someone to be watched. But he rallied, and he muddled his way through. In front of the audiences of today’s ceremony, both that of nobility and that of commoners, Nathan had managed to keep himself aloof enough not to feel the pressure. By focusing on Shoma when so many people around them were focusing on Nathan, Nathan had kept his cool, held his stress at bay, and maintained the affectation of dignity expected of him. He’d kept up appearances. 

But now they were alone. And now, there was Shoma. Alone with him, Nathan had no other task, no one else on whom to keep focused, and he was finding himself increasingly flustered by the beauty and poise of this man.  

Shoma leaned forward, and his hands lifted Nathan's away from his own thigh, halting their nervous motions. With one less distraction, Nathan’s scattered attention was brought down to focus on Shoma's hands, which gently held his own in a cool grip. Was he cold? Or was Nathan just too warm?

"I try to be. Honest." Nathan managed to choke out, not sure if he had let too much silence elapse between Shoma’s question and his own reply.

What did Nathan think of Shoma? 

Frankly, Nathan thought that none of their situation was fair to Shoma at all. Just because he was the crown prince didn’t mean he should lose the right to choose his own spouse! What if he preferred women? Nathan being sold off as part of the peace negotiation had been one thing- he had no chance at the throne of Praeludium. But Shoma…? He was going to be king of Tzigane one day. He deserved a partner worthy of him, not a cast-off from the royal house of an enemy nation.

But none of these thoughts made it out of Nathan's mouth before the carriage, passing over a particularly nasty bump, jolted both of them violently in their seats. Shoma, who had been lightly perched on the edge of his seat, leaning toward Nathan with poised, earnest focus, was thrown entirely off balance. He fell, sprawling awkwardly into Nathan's arms.

_ Oh _ . Nathan took in a shaky breath, eyes wide, startlingly close to Shoma’s, and rested his hands gently, tentatively on Shoma's shoulders. He meant to help Shoma sit back up, settle himself on the seat again, but he didn’t get any further than simply...touching, gently, Shoma’s shoulder and upper arm.

Only one thought actually made it out of his mouth, in the end. "Are you alright?"

♔

Poor Nathan. He was the youngest of his family, wasn't he? Suddenly being up front, in the spotlight of a foreign nation, hobbled with a different language, must be difficult. Shoma thought of his brother, and how he already worked hard to protect Itsuki. Well, he would just have to protect Nathan too.

Shoma laughed, embarrassed that he had made such a fool of himself, breaking the moment of Nathan's emotional need. "Yes, I'm fine," he said. He leaned back and ran a hand through his hair to settle himself, quietly evaluating how he was really feeling. 

"I wasn't paying attention and lost my balance. It happens a lot. My brother says I space out too much, haha." 

Shoma didn’t feel it necessary to tell Nathan that it happened more frequently than he would have liked, nor that it was more complicated than a simple loss of balance. He’d never had good health, and he’d never had a clear explanation for his weakness, either. The best doctors in Tzigane still couldn't figure out the cause, twenty years on. And of course they couldn't allow foreign countries to find out their crown prince had such a vulnerability. Especially one that, according to the doctors’ best guesses, had no real cure. “A weak heart.” The best kept secret of the royal family, and a frequent source of Shoma’s exasperation and impatience with himself. 

But it didn't feel like he was having any sort of attack right now, so it wasn’t important. Maybe someday, Shoma might feel comfortable enough to tell Nathan. But not today. Today, Shoma was determined, was to be a happy day. Regardless of the shadows around.

"Are  _ you  _ alright?" Shoma returned the question rather than answer it in any further depth, more worried about Nathan than himself.  He ignored how close their faces and bodies were were at that moment. "I know it's been a long day. And you sounded…”

"Oh. No, no. I’m alright." Nathan didn't want to challenge Shoma’s explanation, but it sounded... False, somehow. Too rehearsed maybe, too purposefully nonchalant. Not to mention that, while Shoma  _ had  _ been perched at the edge of his seat, it hadn't been that drastic of a bump. How could he lose his balance sitting down? Perhaps he was just ill, or tired. But it would be deeply rude to question further. So Nathan nodded, and muscled up a smile. Today was not a day to delve into those sorts of dark things. Not a day to question his new spouse, rather than trust him. "Your brother, huh? You and he must be close."

“We are.” Suddenly, Shoma sat up a little straighter, smile sparkling, suddenly excited about something.

“Oh! I know!" Shoma’s eyes shone, his smile eager and playful. "As soon as we reach the palace, we can go to my secret place, okay? No one goes there except me, but you're my husband now, so you can come too." Husband... He liked the way the word fell from his lips. It was awkward, a bit, but he liked it. He had someone to care about... And honestly, with all of the festivities today, maybe they could even sneak out later, since most people would be too busy enjoying themselves.

"Secret place…?" Nathan had to assume it was somewhere other than his personal chambers, somewhere more private even than that, if he didn't even have servants attend to him there. Nathan nods. "That sounds nice. To have a little more quiet before... Whatever all we're expected to do later tonight, would be nice."

Shoma nodded, pleased that Nathan had agreed. It would be nice to share with Nathan his secret, and maybe help build trust between them. Or, Shoma laughs to himself, he will be murdered. But Nathan has been searched several times over to make sure he couldn't do Shoma any harm, and to do so would pretty much mean automatic death for Nathan, and more importantly, probably a large portion of his nation. So yes. Showing Nathan his secret would definitely be okay.

Something caught Shoma's eye out the window and he moved to sit back in his seat. "We have arrived."

Shoma turned towards the window, pulling away from Nathan completely. Nathan felt the sudden absence of Shoma in his space acutely, and wondered how he'd gotten so used to the other man so quickly. Perhaps he was just reaching out, latching onto the most friendly face he'd seen in the past few days. 

Well, there's nothing wrong with that, not really, he reminded himself. They  _ are  _ married now, after all. 

At Shoma’s cue, Nathan shifted in his seat, moving closer to the window once more, and looked out to take in the scenery along their approach to the palace.

The carriage slowed, and the path sloped upward, curving around until it reached a long, narrow bridge which led to a manmade island surrounded on all sides by water. Beyond were tall, white walls with narrowly pointed, copper-tipped rooftops which circled the perimeter of a large palace. Above the wall’s peaks rose a two story tower, presumably connected to the larger palace buildings which, for the moment, remained out of view. Two massive wooden doors, decorated with engravings of the family crest and blockily illustrated birds, banded with decorative metal reinforcements, swung open to welcome them into the large courtyard beyond.

"Oh." Nathan let out a little breath, equal parts extreme anxiety and deep admiration. The palace was beautiful, there was no doubt of that. But he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to really consider it home.

Shoma straightened his collar, first two fingertips lingering on his pendant, before taking a deep breath. The carriage circled the courtyard, slowing steadily, and the horses’ hooves clattered brightly on the cobblestones, one of many sounds outside - voices of liverymen shouting, the guards’ crisp call to attention; the clang and bustle of a whole castle’s staff turning out to greet and welcome home their newly wedded crown prince. 

The carriage pulled to a stop at the furthest end of the courtyard from the main gates, and there was the creak of leather and the clatter of a step being placed at the carriage’s side. Then the door was opened for them, and sunlight streamed in.

"Welcome home."

♔

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♔  
> Okay, how was that? Hope you liked getting to know the boys a little better.
> 
> Easter Egg Hunt! What IRL FS references did you find hidden this time? Here's two to get you started:  
> ♔Prince Nathan's wedding attire, which is also his dress uniform as an officer of the Praeludian nation, is his Polovtsian Dances FS costume.  
> ♔Prince Shoma's wedding attire is his Turandot (blue) FS costume.
> 
> also, because i know that i have created (VALID) trust issues for all of you by posting chapter one and then disappearing for months on end........i come bearing _apology gifts_....
> 
> CHAPTER♔3 IS COMPLETE and queued up! It'll post LATER THIS WEEK (on Thursday!). CHAPTER♔4 goes up the Thursday after that!
> 
> Beyond that, let's talk about posting schedule! What day of the week works best for you guys? Weekends, weekdays? Once a week, or once every two weeks? Let us know in the comments.
> 
> We are capra, chupacabra, and V, and we thank you for reading! See you Thursday!


	3. the princes' home and habillé

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There must be some greater significance, some kind of implied insult, that Nathan doesn't understand. Just another thing to mark him as an outsider, he supposes. Maybe that's the point, and there's a sharp twist of annoyance deep in his gut at the idea that the one being insulted by Nathan's assigned wardrobe is Shoma.
> 
> Shoma hasn't done anything wrong. He's been forced into this position, with no more warning than Nathan had, and he has the weight of the future throne on his shoulders already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back everybody! thank you SO MUCH for your amazingly kind and thoughtful comments this week! we are blessed. and inspired to write more! so thank you so much!
> 
> as promised, here's Chapter 3 of Two Crosses. this one continues the domesticity - last chapter, we learned more about Tzigane as a country, and the boys' initial opinions of each other. now let's check out their new digs and new duds. 
> 
> because he can't keep wearing *that,* can he?
> 
> as a reminder, this is fiction, based on selections of personality traits and tropes culled from the publically available personas of real people who are definitely not princes of warring kingdoms locked in a baby slap fight.

## ♔ Chapter Three: The Princes' Home and Habillé ♔ 

  
"Welcome home."

A guard or servant came to open the carriage for him, and Nathan turned to Shoma. Part of him wanted Shoma to go first, to lead the way and show him what to do. But another part of him, the part of him that had handled being on display earlier with so many shows of confidence that he didn't necessarily feel... That part of him won out, and he was the first to move to the door, to climb carefully to the ground, straighten his coat and belt, and then turn to offer his hand to Shoma, to support his descent from the carriage.

"My prince," Nathan said, with soft deference. 

Shoma took Nathan's hand, taking the help to gracefully step outside, his face mostly expressionless should a royal be watching. His game face, more or less. He had to act like he was aloof, even if he wasn't.

He took in the sight of the courtyard. Expertly cared for and tended gardens were divided by wide stone paths that led to the many buildings in the enclosed palace. Further away was the libraries and places of meetings, work and history. The palace before them was low and open. It was a nice day, so one could see into the halls through the shoji doors.

"Thank you," he said to Nathan, offering him the timid smile familiar from the wedding. Part of him felt like he could relax a bit, but the other part of him knew better. Nathan was here, firstly... and secondly, Shoma felt that his family would arrive shortly, and he would have to speak to them.

There was a large area lower in the front before the halls started, and he had to take off his shoes. Two servants approached with slippers for them to walk about the house, dressed in all black so they they would not stand out, never speaking. 

Shoma allowed the servants to assist him, unbothered by their silence. About halfway the process, he realized that it might seem a little strange to an outsider, having let go of Nathan's hand and turned to him. "Ah... Sorry, a Tzigane tradition is to not wear shoes in the house. It makes keeping the inside clean easier." Shoma thinks that’s the reason, anyway. He never did question it.

Servants approached Nathan after they’d first assisted Shoma, and Nathan inclined his head to them as he accepted the offered footwear. "Thank you," He said to them. It wasn't as common in Praeludium to remove one's shoes when entering a home, but it wasn't unheard of either. What surprised him was that the servants didn't say a word as they knelt to assist him with the lacing of his boots. To him, perhaps that made sense. He was at best a stranger to them, at worst still considered an enemy. But they didn't speak to Shoma either, not even in their own language. They simply moved about, with great efficiency, and absolute silence. 

Then, just like that, they were briskly done, and left quickly. Nathan turned to Shoma again with a little frown. "They're frightened of me..?" he guessed.

Shoma had noticed Nathan attempting to interact with the servants, and his confusion with their assistance, but hadn’t been able to guess what inspired Nathan’s clear concern until Nathan put it into words.

"違うよ. Ah, no, they're not." Shoma felt tired. While Common was okay, and he could speak it, he kept slipping into his native tongue. When could he nap?

"Servants do not speak. They fulfill their duty swiftly and diligently, in silence. It is an honor to be in this household, as not even the public is welcome here." He realized pretty quickly that sounded terrible and tried to rephrase. "They... stay out of the way, so that when others are speaking, they don't interrupt." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "なぜこれは難しい?" he grumbled, frustrated with himself and his vocabulary. How to put this? The royal servants were 'lower class', but not abused. They were paid well for their work, but no attachments should ever be formed between them and the royal family, in either direction. It wouldn’t be right.

"I promise that you did not scare them," Shoma assured Nathan. He stepped up onto the raised wooden hallway floor, indicating to Nathan he should follow.

"Alright," Nathan said, accepting Shoma’s suggestion. He was glad to know that the servants weren't frightened of him, but he also wasn't sure how to feel about the idea that they were silent because they had no right to interrupt nobility talking. He knew that Shoma didn't mean anything cruel by it, and he didn't think that the servants felt abused, either. But it was still so very different from how things were handled at home. It was just one more thing that Nathan would have to adjust to. Whether he was confused by it or not didn't matter; this was his life now. 

Shoma led the way into the palace, keeping Nathan's hand in his own so he could guide him through the halls. There weren't many landmarks inside when all the doors were closed, so it could be easy to get lost.

"This is my home. I grew up here. When my father passes, I can decide to stay here or move the capital somewhere else," he said, talking to Nathan quietly as they walked through long corridors to the front hall, his expression flat.

It had changed so quickly. As soon as the carriage door had opened, Shoma's face had slid back into the same sort of stoic expression he'd been wearing at the ceremony. Nathan had already grown to appreciate Shoma's smiles, and having them taken away so quickly left him feeling a bit adrift suddenly. He decided to try to ignore it for now. They'd be alone again before long, he hoped, and he'd be able to see Shoma's smile again then. For now, Nathan was coming to understand, Shoma has to put on the brave Tzigane face for his servants and, probably, his family too. 

So instead of giving in to his anxiousness, Nathan looked around at the palace grounds and the buildings, working to appreciate the artistry in their construction and architecture. He listened to what Shoma is explaining, and found it surprising enough to give him a curious glance, eyebrow raised.

"Why would you?" He asked idly as they entered the front hall. "Hasn't this been built to be the palace?" The home he had grown up in had been the Imperial palace for generations and generations, practically since time out of mind. It had been built to protect the family in times of war. The idea of uprooting the entire family when a new Empress rose to the throne was unthinkable. 

"It has," Shoma agreed with a firm nod. "But, it's, hmm... なか." He tilts his head back and forth, humming softly while he translated in his head. "Phoenix. Rebirth. A new king, so a new palace, a new place to rule. It's a choice, of course, to move. Not every king leaves, but, usually they do." Shoma didn't want to think about his father dying any time soon. He wasn't ready to be king.

"Oh." That made sense, sort of. A new start for the royal family, a new start for a different part of the country. Still, it seemed like it would be a lot of work, in a lot of ways. It occurred to Nathan that when the time came, when Shoma's father passed away and Shoma took the throne, Nathan would be with him. If they moved, or didn't, Nathan would be involved in that too. 

The explanation Shoma gave was halting. He kept slipping into his mother tongue. Nathan didn't really understand the words, but the tone made enough sense, and Nathan felt he could follow along well enough. Shoma looked... So very tired suddenly, as the servants left them. They were alone again, but only for the moment - not like when they were in the carriage. There was a chance of servants, of family members arriving. So Shoma had to keep up his reserved appearance, ready for interruption. There was something about the skin around his eyes, some kind of tightness that made him seem like he could really use a good night's sleep. 

It had been a long day. For both of them. And Nathan still wasn't sure how much more they had to do before the night would be through.

"Shoma." Nathan said, after a moment of walking, reaching out to take his hand again. "It's alright. You don't have to explain anything more to me. We can be quiet for a bit. Alright?"

Shoma felt soothed to hear Nathan say his name. It pulled his attention away from his struggle to explain everything. His steps slowed, and he turned, taking a moment to simply look at Nathan, to meet his eye.

"I... ありがとう、Nasan." Shoma thanked him gratefully and gave his hand a slight squeeze. "Let's go to my room."

Shoma led the way quietly from then on, listening to the sound of the boards under their feet creak and the birds singing all around in the trees outside. One could even hear the soft gentle splashes of water against the sides of the island itself. Shoma had always found the sound of waves soothing, and they soothed him now.

Before long, they arrived at another branch of the palace. This was his wing. Shoma continued along the long curving corridor, passing many doors on either side, before reaching the specific door he sought, and opening it.

Inside was a long and wide room, with solid wooden floors and white carpeting. The furniture all naturally sat low and stout. A low table with two cushions meant for sitting bore a small vase with purple flowers. A wooden chest sat at the end of a long, low king-size bed, built into a wooden frame all the way around, raised a foot from the floor. A set of drawers of the same wood all the others sat on the opposite side of the wood. Each piece was simplistic in itself, and combined to create a simple, beautiful whole. Beauty in simplicity was the way of Tzigane. 

Shoma had left the back door of his quarters open that morning, showing the private garden that he had for himself, enclosed on all sides by other rooms and the wall beyond. The garden had finely groomed trees, shaped from conception, to fit the flow of the garden. White gravel with stone slabs wove paths through patches of greenery and around the edge of a pond. Flickers of orange and white scales appeared just under the surface of the water before disappearing again. His koi were energetic today. Stone lanterns stood as decorations, useful for when he wanted to be in the gardens at night.

A set of sandals stood ready at the edge of the garden for Shoma to step outside, and he made a mental note to ask the next servant he encountered for another set for Nathan’s use.

♔

Nathan was comfortable being quiet with Shoma, not least because Shoma was clearly more comfortable sharing companionable silence as well. He knew a part of that was definitely due to his lack of confidence speaking Common. Nathan resolved he would have to find someone willing to teach him some of the Tzigane language. He wouldn't ask Shoma- it wasn't Shoma's responsibility to make Nathan capable of communicating on his own. But he knew he would have to learn, one way or another. Tzigane was such a cloistered nation. There were likely to be plenty of people- royals, nobility, even servants and commoners- who didn't speak Common at all. 

And, besides. Nathan liked the idea of being able to comfort Shoma in his own language. 

As they moved through the palace, turning down a few halls, Nathan kept his hand in Shoma's, flexing and gripping a bit every now and again, often when he caught sight of some new part of art or architecture that he found aesthetically pleasing. It occurred to him that the palace was built mostly from wood, and he wondered suddenly if moving the palace from place to place with each new King was simply a matter of taking the buildings themselves down and moving them elsewhere. 

The castle keep back home was mostly stone. The parts that weren't carved directly out of the mountain and bedrock beneath were built up from the same substance. It was practically a part of the landscape now, and was the heart of the capital. Did Tzigane's capital city move with the palace? Or was the palace itself the thing? 

Nathan set those questions aside as they arrived at Shoma's chambers. The room itself felt... Warm, but not in temperature. It felt loved and lived in, and there were living things enough in evidence to indicate the level of comfort that Shoma felt when in this place. Nathan found himself smiling as he released Shoma's hand and moved over to the open doorway, leaning out into the garden but careful not to step past the threshold of the doorway, just in case that was inappropriate. 

Water, again. With fish, clearly clamoring for attention in a way that reminded Nathan of stepping into the palace mews and being immediately inundated with cries of the young falcons and hawks housed there. 

He turned around, smiling, and gestured toward the pond. "Are they hungry?" 

"Always" Shoma said with a laugh. "They would become too fat if I fed them whenever they wanted, but they always greet me when I arrive." He liked to think that they liked him at least. He always owned koi as pets. It was a royal family thing, so they were considered special. He asked once if they were edible when he was younger. They are, but they taste terrible, was the answer. He heard that some other countries owned cats in their sleeves, or trained birds of prey.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," Shoma offered. "Would you like tea?"

Nathan looked around the room again, wondering where he was supposed to sit to make himself comfortable. The low table might be the most appropriate place, but the Tzigane style left no room for sitting upright, and he wasn't sure his bad leg would appreciate him trying to get up from there when the time came. As for the bed, while it was a bit higher, it was also... Well, a bed. Shoma's bed. And no matter what he'd said in the carriage, Nathan wasn't about to just sit there until Shoma invited him to. 

"I'm fine. Water, though. Would be nice. To drink, I mean." 

"Okay. Feel free to sit down on the bed." Shoma had noticed Nathan was standing around a little awkwardly, and with the way he had been rubbing his leg and shaking during the ceremony, the floor probably wasn't the best idea for him. Why did he seem so uncomfortable mentioning water though?

Before Nathan could decide whether he was going to take Shoma up on the offer to sit on the bed - even with permission, it still seemed alarmingly intimate - there was a knock at the door. 

Nathan wasn't sure he was ready to be seen relaxing so cavalierly in Shoma's private quarters. He wasn't wasn't sure if it was something for him to be involved in, and once he saw that it was one of the black-clad servants at the door, Nathan turned away. He didn't want to put the poor servant in an awkward position, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to restrain the impulse to talk to them, so he went back to the open garden doors. He wanted to go closer to the pond, but he wasn't sure if he should step outside barefoot, or in the house slippers, or something else. So he just stood in the doorway and breathed in the earthy and plant-like scents. 

Shoma had reached for the subtle rope by the door to ring for service, but the knock on the door had come just he’d touched the rope. Odd timing... He opened it to reveal a servant silently holding a set of black clothes with a letter on top. It was offered to Shoma, which he took with a questioning look.

"We would like a tea and water" he told the servant, who nodded and got up, leaving Shoma with the clothes. He shut the door and set the clothes on the bed, so he could take the letter and open it. 

♛

昌磨,

ネイサン王子これを着用しなければならない。

彼はこの家庭の一員になるためにはもはや王の色を着ることは許されません。

あなたのペットをチェックしてください。

♛

_ [Shoma, Prince Nathan must wear this. He is not allowed to wear his royal colors anymore if he is to be a part of this household. Keep your pet in check.] _

A fire filled Shoma's heart, his jaw clenching so hard that the tendons were visible in his temples. He tore the letter into pieces. Even if Nathan didn't read his language, he didn't want to risk it. His family had zero tact and it pissed him off.

The room was quiet for a moment, and then Nathan found himself jumping at a strange sound that he discovered upon turning around was Shoma tearing a piece of paper into pieces. He looked... Angry. His jaw was clenched tight and a vein stood out at his temple. It was so sudden, so alarming, that Nathan found himself crossing the room as quickly as his tired leg would carry him. His hands found Shoma's waist and he held him. "What is it, what's wrong?" 

Shoma looked up at him, and there was still a hint of rage flaring in his gaze, but just as much he looked... Sad, maybe. Nathan frowned, taking the clothes from Shoma with a little nod. "Oh." The clothes, he discovered as he sorted through them, were all black. Not entirely like the servant's outfits, there was still a bit of flair in the lacy pattern of the shirt, a bit of a noble air to the capelet that would cover his shoulders. But still, there wasn't a hint of blue in any of it, which was what actually surprised him. 

"Shoma..." 

Shoma turns to Nathan miserably. "This... is an outfit that you are to wear from today onward," he explains to Nathan, struggling with rage and a feeling of defeat. "It... can be temporary until there is something better, but they don't want you to wear your national colors." How can he fix this? How can he avoid Nathan being totally despised? Think, Shoma!

Nathan sets the clothes down on the bed and goes back to Shoma, reaching tentatively for his hands. "It's alright. I didn't expect to be dressing like I used to. This," He placed a hand over his own stomach, let his fingers trail along his belt. "Well, I don't need to stand out any more than I already do, right? Your people know who I am, but they'll find it hard to believe that you're safe with me if I walk around dressed like a Praeludian Dragoon."

"Dragoon...?" 

"Oh! Sorry." Nathan let himself smile a little. "Of course, you probably call us something quite different. Dragoon is my rank and position, in the military. Or, was, I suppose. My dress makes it very obvious, I think, to any of your subjects that have seen battle.”

“Oh, yes, that’s-- I see.” Shoma’s frown only grows.

”赤い悪魔" he says softly. "Red demons. That is what most warriors of Praeludium were called." It wasn't a flattering title, either, but should Nathan hear someone whisper it around him, at least he will know what it means instead of wondering.

"Ah. I guess that makes sense." Nathan allows. It sounds a lot more intimidating than he's believes they deserve. Do they fight so ferociously, or is it a name that was assigned to help keep the Tzigane troops thinking of them as less than human? Not that he or his fellow officers were much kinder, to the Tzigane. "We mostly just called your soldiers 'the Wave," he said, offering as much information to Shoma as Shoma offered to him. He deserved that much. 

(Honestly, Nathan thinks Shoma deserves a lot more than that.)

Shoma tips his head to one side, thinking. "I never understood the title of 'dragoon', since you never rode dragons." Then he pauses, uncertain. He had never seen combat, so he wasn't sure. He had been there at the strategy meetings, deciding how forces should be moved and frustrated that he himself could not join in the fight.

"...  _ Did  _ you ride dragons?"

Nathan laughs, not unkindly. "Oh, no. No dragons. I don't really know where it came from, that's just always been the name for my position. Dragoons are officers, in command of a troop of mounted archers. That's all."

He sighs. “I probably should have worn something else, for the ceremony, but this was suggested by my family. We thought it would show deference to you and your family, be more respectful, to wear my full dress uniform. I think, maybe, that was a mistake." He ducks his head a little, feeling somewhat responsible. Not that he'd really owned many clothes in Tzigane colors, but he could have worn something more neutral, at least? White or grey, or something. 

Shoma steps away, and Nathan uses the moment to turn back to the clothes on the bed. It's not so bad, really. He can tell just by looking that the shirt is tailored to fit tight, but the fabric is soft and the lace pattern is beautifully intricate. He wouldn't be at all ashamed to wear these clothes at Shoma's side- and maybe that's part of the problem. There must be some greater significance, some kind of implied insult, that Nathan doesn't understand. Just another thing to mark him as an outsider, he supposes. Maybe that's the point, and there's a sharp twist of annoyance deep in his gut at the idea that the one being insulted by Nathan's assigned wardrobe is Shoma. 

Shoma hasn't done anything wrong. He's been forced into this position, with no more warning than Nathan had, and he has the weight of the future throne on his shoulders already. 

Nathan has no right to feel insulted by anything the nobles or Shoma's family make him do - for all intents and purposes, he belongs to them now. And while true slavery hadn't been a part of Praeludian culture since the time of his grandmother, he still thought it would have been just as likely for Shoma's family to demand tribute in another way- to demand him as a servant or slave. That they'd married him to their eldest son, their crown prince, instead... Well, maybe they were playing some other game that Nathan didn't understand, but whatever it might be is out of his hands and out of his control.

But if they're insulting Shoma for the position he clearly didn't choose to put himself in... 

♔

Shoma took Nathan's hands when Nathan reached for his, letting the shreds of paper leave his palms and scatter about the floor. He would pick them up later, if they weren't cleaned up for him.  Nathan could be so comforting. So many people were afraid to touch Shoma, or treated him like he was made of glass that would shatter should they touch him in just the wrong way. Nathan didn't know his condition, and therefore didn't distance himself, adding him to the very short list of people who treated him like he was normal. Being held so close, and with such confidently casual touches - at his waist, by his hands - was oddly comforting to Shoma, and he appreciated it deeply. It soothed his nerves, but it did not stave his anger for how Nathan was being treated.

The obvious issues with Nathan’s crimson military uniform aside, this issue of black clothes was more than just an innocent issue of convenience. At its core, it aimed to disgrace Nathan before the whole of Tzigane and Shoma hated it. Even if Nathan didn't see it, Shoma did, and he had several choice words for his father on the matter when he next had the opportunity for an audience. It was an insult of high order to give Nathan, the  _ prince’s consort _ , clothes that were all black. Like a servant, a slave, with not even a decoration tying Nathan to Shoma or the royal line aside from the band they wore on their fingers.

Sensing Shoma needed a distraction, Nathan turned his attention back to a question he’d had before the servant’s arrival interrupted them. Shoma’s koi fish were beautiful, from what Nathan could see as they splashed about just under the surface of the water, vying for attention. They were obviously simply ornamental; he didn't think there would be any releasing a horde of them into the sea to hunt food. But something about that appealed to Nathan. He'd seen too much war in his few years, and while his birds (well, his family's birds, since they were hardly his anymore) were more for sport hunting and only rarely used at war, it was still nice to think about having pets for mere companionship. 

"Your fish,” he said, drawing Shoma’s attention out of his dark cloud. “Do they have names?" 

The koi did have names, and Shoma smiled, reflexive, to think of them. Aki (white with orange and black splotches), Fuyu (blue grey with black stripes along the spine), Haru (golden with one orange spot on their side), Natsu (orange and black even splotches all over) and Shi (black with a white head). Later, when he was calm, he would feed them and point them out to Nathan. For now, he appreciated Nathan’s attempt at distraction, but he was in no mood to talk about fish, even those decorated with markings as distinctive as his koi.

_ Markings... _

Shoma gasped. "Nathan! Nathan, I... A moment, please." Shoma had an idea. Something to counter this attack on Nathan's honor that Nathan wasn't fully aware of. He let go of Nathan's hand to move to his set of drawers, opening the top one. Inside, it was sectioned off. One side had papers, important things that Shoma wanted to keep easily accessible. The other side had sets of necklaces and other jewelry that he himself wore. He picked out one of the baubles that he’d always admired, but never worn himself. It was a wide, flat black leather band with a single pendant of his family crest; a square inside of a square.

The crest itself was made of a fine silver with a blue gem carved and set into one side of the larger square. The leather band itself was meant to buckle subtly behind the neck, but it was never really Shoma's type of accessory. He liked his neck open and untouched. Breathing was hard enough at times, so why make it worse? But facing his current problem, this bauble, ill-suited to Shoma himself, suddenly was everything Shoma needed.

"Here." Necklace in hand, Shoma turned eagerly, presenting it to Nathan for him to take and look at. "This is the family crest. I want... I want the world to know that you are important. To this family and... to me. You can wear it with this outfit until I can find you something more suitable. We can't have anyone mistaking you for a servant, ね?" He tried to smile, doing his best. Shoma felt less lost. And more determined, and his anger had lessened somewhat, simply by virtue of Nathan being so... Nathan.

♔

Nathan already has begun disrobing, ceremonial belt unbuckled, when Shoma comes near to him again, and he tosses it over one shoulder so he can take the small adornment Shoma is offering him. 

Nathan examines it closely, and then looks up to meet Shoma's eyes again. "It's lovely. Of course I'll wear it." And he does, immediately, clasp the flat leather band about his throat. It's snug, but not enough so to constrict his breathing, and the way it fits lets the crest pendant swing freely just over the hollow of his throat. He spreads his hands once it's on, and smiles for Shoma. "How does it look?"

Shoma couldn't look away as Nathan put on the necklace. Its short length made it look, Shoma realized, a lot like a collar. But as Nathan smiled sunnily at him, Shoma thought,  _ screw them _ . Screw his family. The idea of a collar might suit his family’s image of Nathan, but Shoma will mark Nathan with the royal crest when they won’t; he will allow Nathan to thrive here, regardless of how anyone thinks of him. He stepped closer and reached out to gently place his fingers behind the pendant, letting it swing against his fingertips. 

"It... looks good on you," he said. His smile was genuine, but shy. On an impulse, Shoma turned his hand behind the pendant and let his fingers caress Nathan's exposed skin for a moment before he backed away, suddenly embarrassed by his own daring.

"I'll, ah, let you continue changing." He wasn't sure if he should turn away, or do something else, to give Nathan some privacy. He wouldn't push his luck, but he was very tempted to see the rest of Nathan's body. What did a dragoon's body look like under the armor and tunic?

♔

Shoma stepped closer to curl his fingers beneath the pendant, and then his hand shifted, stroking Nathan's throat and collarbone where his tunic opened at the top. His fingers still felt cool, like they had in the carriage, even though it was much warmer in here. And he still looks so tired. 

"Shoma," Nathan says again, reaching out to grasp Shoma's wrist before he can get too far away, heart in his throat a bit as he leaps out onto this limb, following an impulse.   
  
"I know I'm out of place here, and that I don't speak your language, and I've hurt many of your people." He's definitely digging himself deeper and deeper, and he takes a moment to breathe, rubbing his thumbs in circles over the place where he can faintly feel Shoma's pulse in his wrist. "I just want you to know that I don't want to cause you any grief. That I will do my best to show you the respect you deserve. This place, strange as it is to me, is my home now. That's what's important." 

With that, he gives Shoma's hand a little squeeze, and takes a step back, reaching instead to begin unlacing his tunic. 

Removing the tunic revealed the scars on Nathan's chest and sides. He wasn't covered, by any means, but there were enough to show that he had certainly seen his share of battle and had a few close brushes with death in his years. He had first ridden into combat at fifteen, and had been training with an intensity only allowed to him by virtue of his birth order for three years before that. There was one scar, long and thin, that crossed over his shoulder and across his collarbone. Another, low on his stomach, where an arrow had pierced him through a gap in his armor. 

And then, at his bad leg, the thickest and biggest ones, a maze of still-healing scars from the surgery that had been done to repair his bone. This web spread from the hollow beneath his protruding hip bone, down well past the waistband of his pants, extending unseen down his leg past that point, down nearly to his knee. 

♔

Shoma didn't really think he could fall in love with someone so quickly. He read about it, enjoyed it in theory, but never really thought he himself would fall in love with anyone. He was just floating through life. Besides, it wasn't like he had much choice in his partners in the future anyway. His future wife might very well be chosen for him as well, if he lived long enough to see it.

And yet, here he was, swooning like some maiden in a fairy tale as Nathan held his wrist and told him that he wanted him to be respected in such earnest terms... How could he not fall for a man like that? He only hoped that his pulse beneath Nathan's fingers didn't give way to how his heart was beating.

Nathan removed his tunic and Shoma softly gasped. First, Nathan was very fit, putting his own body to shame. Training for battle did that, he imagined. Second, Nathan had scars. Many. Some small, several larger, and some  _ very  _ prominent. Shoma stepped closer, moving with Nathan as he turned so he could still see as his tunic came off and his body was revealed. 

Shoma’s hands moved before he thought about it, reaching out first to touch Nathan's long, thin scar along his chest, fingers barely touching his skin in fear. Whether that was fear of hurting Nathan, fear of what the scars said about him, or fear  _ for  _ him, Shoma couldn’t tell. How many times did Nathan face death? How many times did the world almost take this moment away from Shoma without his knowing?

Finally, his hand edged around the web of scars towards Nathan's hip. "This... It aches, doesn't it?" It wasn't much of a question. Shoma had noticed Nathan nursing that side, but to see what was truly causing him pain tightened his chest. His heart ached for Nathan. "How...?"

♔

Nathan had always had the freedom not to be too concerned over who he shared his affection with. Combined with the fact that his people were generally freer with physical affection, and emotional connection, he wasn't surprised that his feelings for Shoma were developing so rapidly. Perhaps it was that he was the only truly friendly face, or that Shoma was being so open with him in spite of natural reserve, the calm stoicism that his culture had given him, that he had to hold onto to keep up appearances, to be respected by his people. 

Nathan was about to turn, to place his tunic on the bed and retrieve the black shirt instead, but suddenly Shoma was within arm's reach of him again, and Shoma's cool fingers were echoing his earlier motion against Nathan's throat, only now tracing some of his more prominent scars. The big one across his chest was one of his earliest brushes with death, and didn't cause him any pain at all, but the tentative way Shoma's fingers traced the mark was so endearing. He clearly didn't want to cause him pain. 

Shoma would make an incredible monarch someday. Nathan hoped he'd still be there to see it. 

Shoma’s fingers moved down then, feathering across his hip, and Nathan's breath caught in his throat in reflexive fear. It would be incredibly easy for Shoma to knock him to the floor just now. His leg was tired, the surgical scars still only half-healed. A well placed press of two fingers would be enough to make Nathan crumple to the floor.

But of course, Shoma wasn't going to do that. His hand was so gentle.  _ He  _ was so gentle.

"It's nothing life-threatening." He says softly, reaching to cup his hand around Shoma's. He hadn't been planning on taking his slacks off - since they are black, and comfortable, even if the cut of them is not quite Tzigane fashion - but now, Nathan felt compelled to fully strip. To show the extent of the damage to Shoma. So he knew. He deserved to know. 

Nathan spoke slowly as he undid the clasps at his waistband, his thoughts lost miles away.

"When I lost Nemesis... My charger. I was pinned beneath her. Most of the scarring is from surgery, actually. It will heal up."

"Nemesis." Saying the name of Nathan's previous companion was difficult for Shoma, but he wanted to remember that name, to honor her, and to make sure that his next horse didn't dredge up any bad memories.

Nathan's hand laid over his own was hard for Shoma to interpret. He... wasn't pulling his hand away, or stopping him from touching Nathan’s skin. But he was acknowledging the touch, hanging both their attention on it, and Shoma’s heart fluttered in his chest.

_ What the hell. _

Carefully, Shoma turned Nathan, and pushed him gently so he would sit and be off his leg. "You pushed yourself so hard today. It won't heal if you don't rest."

Nathan thought the way Shoma said Nemesis’s name was so sweet. It was a difficult word for his accent, but he said it with such cautious reverence. Respect for the life lost, for Nathan's friend who Shoma had never known.

Shoma's hands pushed him gently, and Nathan let him guide him back to the bed and sat down. Shoma wasn't wrong; today he had pushed the recovering injury much harder than he probably should have. He hadn't wanted to give off an air of being weak, or seem like he'd been given over to the Tzigane royal family because he was somehow defective. But the consequence was his current weak-kneed exhaustion.

"Thank you." he said, with a little laugh. And then, the laugh caught in his throat as Shoma leaned in, pressed his cool and dry lips to the scar on his chest.

Shoma had made a decision. He didn’t really want to hold back and, well, he didn't have a whole lot to lose by  _ not  _ doing so. Maybe Nathan wouldn't mind. Yuzuru had often expressed that Shoma didn't seem to have much in the way of nerves, so he didn't feel the need to hold back as much as others of his country. Maybe that was what gave him such strange calm confidence now.

Shoma leaned forward, into Nathan’s personal space, and then further, and the delicate kiss he placed on the scar on Nathan's collarbone was a prayer. Shoma silently thanked the scar, and the gods, that Nathan survived. Then he knelt before Nathan and placed another kiss on the scar on his belly, the one that looked like an arrow wound.

Finally, breath shivering, Shoma bent his head down even lower and placed a feather-light kiss on Nathan’s left hip, at the peak of its bone, the highest part of the scarring. "本当にありがとう” he whispered. "I am grateful to the gods that you survived."

"O-oh." Nathan let out a shaky breath, both surprised by Shoma's actions, and deeply touched by the deep reverence in Shoma's voice. 

"You don't... have to..." He's not quite sure what he's saying, or what he's saying any of it for. Before he can get that far, Nathan decides it would be better if he stopped thinking so much, if he stopped fixating on all of the things he could possibly be doing wrong. He decides, quickly and suddenly, to just... Go for it. 

After all, it's not as though they haven't already kissed. 

Nathan reaches out to cup his hands around Shoma's jaw, gently tipping his head back and he pulls up gently, leading Shoma upward. Nathan leans down, guiding Shoma upward, and is careful not to stress his bad leg by bending too tightly down onto it. Shoma felt Nathan's hand under his chin and looked up, blinking as he opens his eyes again, just in time to realize how close Nathan had come. He barely registered what was happening before he felt Nathan's lips on his.

They really  _ were  _ surprisingly soft, Shoma thought, distractedly. Now, without the ceremony around them, Shoma felt like he could enjoy this kiss far more than he had the one before. He sighed through his nose, enjoying the feeling, and closed his eyes. He started to wrap his arms around Nathan's neck, wanted to pull him closer, to BE closer to someone than he ever had before.

It had been such a long day. And Shoma's skin was so soft, and they were both so tired, and Nathan might not feel so relaxed and able to open up to Shoma like this again for a while, considering how much more they still had to do tonight. What their lives were bound to be like now. He just wanted... He just wanted this, for a moment. 

And the sound Shoma made just then, soft and vulnerable and even - yearning? -  _ wasn't  _ helping Nathan to think clearly. He tightened his grip, not roughly, putting more pressure on the back of Shoma's neck. Nathan held Shoma in place, held him close, and was just about to test the idea of parting his lips and deepening the kiss--

_ Thud-thud-thud-thud- _

When Shoma suddenly pulled back, hurriedly throwing himself to his feet again, just a split second before the door slid open with enough force to make a sound.

♔

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♔  
> Whoo. The politics of clothing, amirite?
> 
> Easter Egg Hunt! What IRL FS references did you find hidden this time? Here's one to get you started:  
> ♔ Nathan's horse in the war was named Nemesis, after his 17-18 SP program!
> 
> CHAPTER♔FOUR goes up next Thursday, and we'll have more art to share then, too! see you then!
> 
> we are V, capra, and chupacabra, and we thank you for reading.


	4. the princes' dance lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Itsuki eyed his brother and Nathan carefully. "Very well. I will leave you to your dance lesson. Nathan-san... Do keep my brother on task, please," he asked. His innocent smile somehow lowered the temperature of the room in the space between one breath and the next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd apologize for that mean cliffhanger last week, but i would be lying. 
> 
> reminders!  
> ♔this is fiction, based on selections of personality traits and tropes culled from the publically available personas of real people who are definitely not princes of epically rival warring kingdoms.  
> ♔Tzigane is loosely based on, among other island nations, Japan! V is using some *very* simplified Japanese to represent Shoma's native tongue when he and other Tzigane citizens speak it. if you see any awful errors of meaning (not counting an overuse of hiragana), please let us know!
> 
> thank you to everyone for your AMAZINGLY sweet comments on our chapters last week! we're all three just so touched. and inspired. we're really happy that this world that V and Chupacabra built is so entertaining to you, and we hope to keep pleasing you as the story continues. 
> 
> with that in mind, please especially enjoy this week's chapter, including insert art by Asma 💕

It had been such a long day. And Shoma's skin was so soft, and they were both so tired, and Nathan might not feel so relaxed and able to open up to Shoma like this again for a while, considering how much more they still had to do tonight. What their lives were bound to be like now. He just wanted... He just wanted this, for a moment.

And the sound Shoma made just then, soft and vulnerable and even - yearning? - _wasn't_ helping Nathan to think clearly. He tightened his grip, not roughly, putting more pressure on the back of Shoma's neck. Nathan held Shoma in place, held him close, and was just about to test the idea of parting his lips and deepening the kiss--

_Thud-thud-thud-thud-_

When Shoma suddenly pulled back, hurriedly throwing himself to his feet again, just a split second before the door slid open with enough force to make a sound.

 

## ♔Chapter Four: The Princes’ Dance Lesson ♔

 

  
"Yo! It's almost time--!" A boy, younger and taller looking than Shoma, but bearing a lot of the same features, stood at the door. He wore an outfit of the same blue as Shoma, but with silver embroidery and less intricate details. He seemed to freeze at the door, processing what he had just walked in on.

"Itsuki..." Shoma cleared his throat and gestured between them. "Naisan, this is Itsuki Uno. My younger brother."

♔

Nathan had seen Itsuki at the marriage ceremony of course, but this was the first time he'd heard him speak. He was obviously Shoma's brother, they shared features and both looked extremely distinguished in their royal blues.

Nathan stood up as soon as Shoma stepped far enough away from the edge of the bed to make room, and gave Itsuki a tentative little bow as he reached for his new shirt, shrugging into it. "Itsuki. It's an honor to meet you."

Itsuki gave a similar bow back to Nathan in turn before entering the room proper. "Likewise. I've heard so much about you." Itsuki's common seemed to be a bit better than Shoma's.

He turned to speak to Shoma briefly. "だいじょうぶですか？心が？”

_[Is this really okay? Your heart?]_

Shoma looked exasperated by the question and placed a hand on his hip. "いいんです。 あなたは何が必要ですか？"

_[I’m fine. What do you need?]_

Itsuki didn't seem to believe him, but addressed Nathan again, who had taken the opportunity while neither of them were looking at him to do up the laces up the front of his new shirt, hiding his scars from view once more. But not quite fast enough, apparently, as Itsuki turned to him again and his eyes lingered not on Nathan's face but on his weak hip.

"Tonight, there is dancing, later, amongst the nobility. Of course, you two will be at the center to start off the ceremony. I came to collect you both on my own, first. Elder Brother doesn't like being in the spotlight, so I wanted to make sure he hadn't run off." Itsuki's eyes had caught the sight of the size of the scarring at Nathan’s hip, but asked the question casually, without judgement. "Can you waltz, Nathan-san?"

Itsuki's accent was not quite as sharp as Shoma's. Perhaps he simply spent more time practicing his Common, Nathan thought, trying not to be too self-conscious.

"Oh." It was a fair question, and Nathan felt a bit of heat rise to his cheeks. "I haven't waltzed before, no. But I can follow Shoma's lead."

He knows well that Itsuki wasn't actually talking about the dance itself, but dancing in general. His gaze shifts to Shoma's face, trying to gauge how candid he's willing to be with his brother. He's already seemed to express that he's closer to Itsuki than Nathan is with any of his siblings, but he didn't want this to turn into another opportunity for his presence to cause Shoma shame or disrespect.  Unable to tell, Nathan errs on the side of caution.

"I'll be fine."

"I see. Well, I am sure Elder Brother will show you how to dance beforehand. ね?" Itsuki smiled briefly at Shoma, under the guise of being encouraging, but it was a silent jab as well. Even if Nathan was in the dark about Shoma’s condition, it didn't give him an excuse to be reckless. Tonight’s dance would be a challenge for them both.

"ね？" Shoma mocked back and sighed and gave Nathan an apologetic smile. "Dancing is easy enough, especially when it's formal dancing, and we don't have to do it for very long. There's fireworks too, and I would like to watch them with you later."

"I see." Nathan said, looking back and forth between the brothers. He felt as though he was missing some significant level of the conversation, and it had nothing to do with the language they were speaking, though he was fairly certain they were only speaking Common for his benefit. He wanted to tell them they were welcome to speak in their own language if they didn't want to be eavesdropped upon, or that he was willing to leave the room if they wanted privacy. But every time he opened his mouth to speak and offer either of these options, one or the other of them would turn to look at him and he'd feel very much like he'd be intruding more if he spoke, so he went back to sorting out his clothes. Tightening the lacing on his pants and on the new shirt.

His initial assessment had been right, it _was_ very snug. Now that it was on, he was able to tell that half the pattern was sheer enough for his skin to show through. So, not only all black like the servants’ clothes, but much less modest to boot. Beyond that, it also left a few of his scars more or less visible, if anyone were to look closely enough. Nathan wondered if that, too, was part of the game Shoma's family seemed to be playing with their new pet.

"Fireworks..?" To be honest, Nathan wasn't entirely sure what that might be, but it sounded dangerous. Still, Shoma seemed excited about it, so he nodded and smiled. "Sure. Whatever you like. Or, maybe, whatever is expected of me. Right?"

Itsuki eyed his brother and Nathan carefully. "Very well. I will leave you to your dance lesson. I will return shortly. Nathan-san... Do keep my brother on task, please," he asked. His innocent smile somehow lowered the temperature of the room in the space between one breath and the next. Itsuki’s irritation wasn't directed only at Nathan, but at Shoma. Itsuki loved his brother, but didn't trust him to pay attention to the important duties he had.

Itsuki took his leave then, and Nathan turned a questioning glance to Shoma. Itsuki's parting words had sounded innocent enough, but sounded almost definitely like a reprimand for as good as walking in on them kissing. Should they not have been? Was there something else they were supposed to be doing?

Nathan elects to focus on draping his capelet around his shoulders. It clasps at his throat, but well low enough so as not to interfere with the lines of the collar Shoma had gifted him. Generally, looking down at himself, Nathan thought the effect was nice. Nice to his Praeludian sensibilities, anyway, which probably meant that it would border on scandalous to the rest of the Tzigane nobility.

There really was no keeping up with it. No wonder Shoma seemed tired all the time.

"I'm sorry." He said after a moment. "We probably should be more... Reserved."

Shoma shook his head and ran a frustrated hand through his hair, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. "No. The day just isn't over yet. I want more of... That. The moment just now." Shoma turned away from the door, putting Itsuki from his mind as he gestured at the bed. Then, finally, his brain caught up with his eyes, as he saw Nathan fully dressed in his new outfit.

_Oh._

Gods above, his weak heart could barely take in the image before him. His cheeks warmed and he slid his hand from his hair to his neck. "You look good." He swallowed his emotions in a nervous cough and straightened up.

"An-anyway. Itsuki has a point. I need to teach you to dance first. Then... Later, we can continue." Shoma felt a bit weird to just...demand Nathan's attention, but he decided that they were married, and he was going to be king eventually, so he couldn't second guess _everything_ he wanted, right? Just most things. Definitely not how much he wanted kiss Nathan more. Especially in that outfit.

"I knew that." Nathan laughed a bit and answered Shoma’s conversation, rather than his compliment. Really he’s just been waiting for the moment they would be called back out, when it was time for Shoma to start parading him around again. "I just meant... Well, this is your room. I got a bit careless. I'll be more careful."

He wanted to kiss Shoma again, too. He wanted to be able to touch Shoma's skin with as much gentle reverence as Shoma had shown him. He wanted to run his fingers through Shoma's hair, and he wanted... Well, he wanted to lie beside Shoma and keep him safe while he slept.

Nathan was in deep already, he realized quite suddenly. Kissing and groping were one thing- soldiers did plenty of that, during long marches and tense waits in the wee hours before or between battles. But to want to keep him safe, to want to keep watch for him because Shoma so clearly needed sleep...

That was how Nathan knew he really cared about Shoma, not just in a fast and dirty sexual way. But really... Something like love.

 _Love._ Could it really be?  
  
♔  
  
Nathan cleared his throat and shook his head and tried to will his cheeks to stop being so flushed. _Stop thinking about that, focus on the conversation,_ he told himself.

"But, this is important, too. Yeah. Absolutely. I know nothing about a waltz, save that it's a sort of dance. We dance rather differently in Praeludium, and besides that, I think I wouldn't be able to do a proper tango in my current state anyway."

The thought of dancing a tango with Shoma filled his head suddenly, putting paid to any idea of chasing his blush away. Maybe, someday, he'd be able to dance like a Praeludian prince with his quiet and intense Tzigane spouse. It would certainly be a sight to behold, he thought.

But, for now, the waltz. "Alright." He crossed the room. His leg was still feeling weak, but it wasn't causing him any particular pain currently, so he managed to approach Shoma with only the barest hint of a limp, and mirrored his pose, spreading his hand palm-to-palm with Shoma's. He met his eyes, and nodded. "Lead the way."

♔

Shoma would keep this lesson brief but informative. They didn't have to do anything fancy, but he would be damned to have his family and the stiff nobility have any excuse to snub their noses up even higher at Nathan. 'Demons can't even dance properly' or something of the sort.

Shoma stepped closer to the middle of the floor and gestured for Nathan to come closer. He raised his right arm up at a 90° angle in front of him, clearly having practiced this many times. "Mirror me and place your hand on mine. I will take the lead." Which, interestingly, made him the 'man' in this dance, but that hardly mattered. “Here we go.”

How would Nathan look in a dress, he wondered vaguely as they went around. Not that he particularly wanted to see him in one - but it was confusing to dance a waltz without tripping over the long, full skirts of his dancing partner. Most of the time, Shoma had to waltz with potential suitors, women of nobility wanting to marry him... This was much more pleasant, however clunky and awkward. It was far more organic.

"We will walk in a circle one way, and then reverse it, then change positions."

They spun around once, walking carefully. Shoma corrected Nathan's footing gently, but it seemed that Nathan at least had some dance experience of some kind, because despite his injury, he seemed to be doing alright. Then, they walked the other way until they returned to where they started. Shoma then took Nathan's hands and positioned them so he was holding one, and Nathan's other hand was on his shoulder. He held Nathan's waist and, slowly, he looked up to watch Nathan's face.

"Now, watch my feet and count with me. Mirror my feet. We count in threes. Ichi, ni, san... One, two, three. Understand?" His dance lessons had extended further than this, but any extended dancing could be on hold for later. Nathan just needed to pass.

Shoma counted in his language ("Ichi, ni, san. Ni, ni, san. San, ni, san") as he led Nathan in a small square, guiding him with his hands and his waist. Because of that blasted _th-_ sound again, the same as the one in Nathan’s name, Shoma had difficulty pronouncing the word three in Common. Instead, he used Tzigane to count, and Nathan found himself echoing the counting in the same way, in Shoma's mother tongue. It seemed easier for them both.

Shoma's hands felt a little more warm than they had up until now, and it made Nathan smile as he curled his fingers around Shoma's palm, gripped Shoma's shoulder cautiously.

"I'll do my best," Nathan said softly, ducking his head so he could keep an eye on Shoma's feet. Probably for the best, too, because if he let himself gaze too long into Shoma's face, he would probably make a total mess of himself, trip over his feet, maybe knock them both over.  He needed to work on his footing, obviously, but he couldn't tell if it was because his leg was tired, or just that he was tired in general, or what. Shoma was nice enough about directing him, and he seemed perfectly happy with how Nathan tried to incorporate his corrections. If he could tell why Nathan had to keep getting corrected, and what was distracting him, he was kind enough to pretend he hadn’t noticed.

Generally, there was something familiar about the shapes the dance formed upon the floor. It seemed a lot more uptight to Nathan than he generally expected from something so otherwise artistic, but that seemed to be pretty typical of life in Tzigane culture, so he just tried to focus on making it look as smooth and neat as possible. Even Nathan could tell that it was unusual for the taller partner not to be the one leading, but he also guessed Shoma must be used to this, too. He was quite small.

"Is it just this?" He asked, after a few more repetitions of the same simple steps. “Well, enough for a first effort, at least?"

"Well... It can be much more. It spins, and flows and..." Shoma wasn't doing a very good job of describing it, but he didn't have the adjectives in his vocabulary to be able to express how what it looked like. Watching an entire room of guests waltzing in sync was a sight to behold. Kimono sleeves flowing gracefully about, men and women enjoying themselves... If he had better health, Shoma might've danced more. Oh well.

Nathan might not have any direct experience with waltzing, but he thinks he can figure out what Shoma means. There's very basic beginner steps to tango, too. It's how you build off that shape that makes it a work of art. Waltzing is obviously the same way.

"You will see," Shoma nodded, agreeing. "This is good enough for now. I can teach you more another day."

"I'd like that." Nathan says, and he really means it. He's not sure what kind of position Shoma holds within actual daily governing, but he imagines it must be a lot more hands-on than his experience ever was. He badly wants to be available to Shoma for relaxation, when he isn't busy. Whatever that entails.

Maybe it was due to this lapse in concentration, thinking to the future rather than the current moment, that Nathan missed a step then. His foot fell not quite out of rhythm or pattern, but just a hair too close to Shoma, upsetting his center of gravity, and bumping them together, chest to chest. Shoma wobbled, and Nathan grabbed his elbow, catching him quickly. Oh.

"I think I'd like to kiss you again," Nathan heard himself saying. Softly, suddenly.

♔

_I’d like to kiss you._

“A kiss?”

Shoma felt his heart flutter in his chest like some frantic trapped butterfly. Should he be worried at how often, how _easily_ , Nathan could make it beat so quickly? He did feel quite lightheaded, but he didn't feel like he was going to faint at any moment. He just felt... light.

 _Well, if I do faint, at least Nathan’s going to catch me,_ he concluded rather dizzily. _Too bad I’d be unconscious for that, though._

Shoma couldn't help but smile, and he turned it into a playful little tease, rather than give away how impossible it felt to him, in this moment, _not_ to smile simply because Nathan had drawn so near. "I think you have earned it after dancing with me."

Impulsively, Shoma decided _he_ would start this kiss, and pushed himself up on his toes to press their lips together, accompanied by an explosion of butterfly-heart excitement. He could get used to this lifestyle.

Holding Shoma close, Nathan remembers Shoma’s quip about spacing out in the carriage, and wonders if there's more to it than that. He hadn't stepped so drastically out of time, and yet it was enough to make Shoma's balance falter again.

He seems alright now, though, as he leans into Nathan’s embrace, hot breath and dry lips pressing Nathan's for the third time today. Feeling warm all over, Nathan smiles into the kiss, bringing his free hand up to cup Shoma's cheek. And, after a moment without any interruption, he dares to part his lips and sneak a taste of Shoma's bottom lip with his tongue.

Before that morning, Shoma had had very little experience with kissing. He had had to court women every now and then, and when he was younger, there were one or two that decided to be more... forward, when it came to vying for the prince's attention. He hadn’t enjoyed any of that.  

But now, Nathan was opening up new doors for him. Shoma considered how very willing he might be to let Nathan talk him through the manners of the bedroom in the near future.

When he felt Nathan's tongue against his lips, Shoma breathed in sharply, but made no effort to break away. He.. liked that, actually, and followed Nathan's lead by copying him, almost cautiously touching the tip of his own tongue against Nathan's. It was supposed to welcome him, to be an invitation to continue.

Resolutely, Shoma ignored his heart, specifically the way the actual muscle was feeling, how it tightened and beat rapidly in his chest. He didn’t _care_. And probably he will have reason to regret that, later, when his exhaustion is at its peak. But right now, it’s worth it.

In Nathan’s opinion, experience - or lack thereof - didn’t matter right now. Sure, it was pretty obvious that Shoma had next to no experience, but it's not as though Nathan was extremely talented in the ways of romance either. Regardless, there's something so... Calming, about this. It felt _right_ , somehow. Maybe this little bit of escapism is especially enjoyable because they're both tired, or that they have so much still to do, and so many heavy expectations waiting for them outside this bedroom - certainly moreso on Shoma, but as his spouse that's part of Nathan's responsibility too now, isn’t it?

But, whether or not that’s why, right now it's nice to just share this. A moment, private and unplanned, that is just for the two of them.

Shoma's lips part, his tongue touches Nathan's, and it's all Nathan can think to do: he wraps his arms around him, holds him tight as he feels Shoma sway slightly. In Nathan’s arms, Shoma felt anything but weak or frail. He felt very sturdy, and Nathan knew he was strong in so many ways, ways Nathan couldn't even start to comprehend. Imagine having to restrain all of your emotions all the time, to not be allowed to show what you were thinking, what you were feeling! Not being allowed to _feel_ what you were feeling. He can’t comprehend it.

Shoma’s breath is coming quick, and Nathan’s pulse is picking up to match. Nathan is just about to deepen the kiss further, one hand cradling the back of Shoma’s neck, when he hears the sound of someone approaching in the hallway again.

They don't have time to separate to an appropriate distance, so Nathan's arms are still wrapped around Shoma's body when the door slides open.

♔

 _Damn it all_. Shoma could kick something. Several somethings. He'd give up his crown for a moment's peace! Shoma barely has enough time to steady himself, clinging probably more than necessary to Nathan's chest as the door was opened. Frustratingly, Shoma is still a little unsteady, and Nathan holds him steady as they both take a few deep, calming breaths.

This time, it was a servant, bearing the drinks Shoma had asked for. Sighing, he stepped away from Nathan to accept the tray. The servant also presented Shoma with another note. He recognized the writing as Itsuki's. It was faster to send a note with a servant than for Itsuki himself to come back over to Shoma’s room, but Itsuki had probably also wanted to avoid embarrassing Shoma again. Sometimes Itsuki ticked him off, but other times he was alright. Kinda.

"Itsuki says we need to leave soon," Shoma explained, showing Nathan the note as he placed the tray of drinks on the table. "Rest for a minute, before we head out."

"I understand." Nathan returns to the bed again as the servant leaves them, more grateful than he wants to admit that he’s able to sit and take his weight off of his hip, even if only for a few minutes.

Nathan accepts his cup of water with a nod of his head. His mouth does feel dry. He hasn't had anything to drink in too long, he thinks, and... Well, if he has a cup of water in his hands, ready to drink, maybe he can control himself instead of pulling Shoma down on top of him yet again.

A floodgate has opened, and it's going to be tricky for Nathan to keep his hands (and his lips) to himself, now. He wonders how affectionate he's supposed to be with Shoma. They are married, after all... But what does that mean, really? They're so reserved in this damn country. If this were Nathan's home, it would be seen as scandalous for them not to be physically affectionate with each other.

"But, will you too?" He asks, gesturing beside himself for Shoma to take a seat. "Please. It's been a long day for us both."

Shoma shook his head. "I'm fine, thank you." He picked up his tea, and sipped at it gingerly. It wasn't that he didn't want to sit, really, but there were two factors here. First, Nathan was still VERY tempting, and he didn't have the time right now to show him proper attention. Second, if he were to sit down on his bed, he would definitely lie down in his bed, and no power on the planet could remove him from it until tomorrow.

Shoma seemed to stand there for a long moment, sipping his tea, deep in thought... but actually, he’d stopped paying attention completely, spacing out. He blinked back to reality a few seconds later, finding his brain blessedly calmer and more organized than it had been moments before, and set his teacup down.

"Ready?" he asked, and offered his hand to Nathan to take.  With Shoma leading Nathan by the hand, they walked from his room with confidence - even if it was false - back toward their duties.

♔

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♔  
> what do you think of Itsuki? he's usually more laid back than this, but his brother just got married to a stranger and is being a dumbass about his health, so I think we can forgive him for being a bit stressed today, yeah?
> 
> thank you again to Asma for our featured art of Nathan in his new outfit and collar!
> 
> Easter Egg Hunt! What IRL FS references did you find hidden this time? Here's one to get you started:  
> ♔Nathan's new outfit is based on his all black and sheer lace costume for his 16-17 SP, Le Corsaire! In this AU, instead of a faux bolero that creates the solid black section, Nathan has a little black velvet cape over his sheer lace. [eyes emoji]
> 
> We are chupacabra, V, and capra, and we thank you for reading!


	5. the princes, scandalous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This evening, as the sun settled slowly further down in the sky, edging its way toward the clay-slated roofs of the royal palace, and the courtyard filled steadily with the tightly-leashed energy of High Society on display, Yuzuru looked around at his surroundings and sighed. This was not a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! welcome back!   
> here's a few reminders before we get right into it!
> 
> ♔this is fiction, based on selections of personality traits and tropes culled from the publically available personas of real people who are definitely not princes of epically rival warring kingdoms.
> 
> ♔Tzigane is loosely based on, among other island nations, Japan! V is using some *very* simplified Japanese to represent Shoma's native tongue when he and other Tzigane citizens speak it. if you see any awful errors of meaning (not counting an overuse of hiragana), please let us know!
> 
> ♔all villains and antagonists in this story are our OCs!! and are *not* meant to represent nor mimic, in part or in whole, the real life relations, friends, or identities of any skaters, or any people related to skaters!
> 
> ♔ thank you dearly to this week's beta, the lovely cake_and_kuyashii, without whom this chapter would be quite...spacey.

"Ready?" Shoma asked, and offered his hand to Nathan to take.  With Shoma leading Nathan by the hand, they walked from his rooms with confidence - even if it was false - and back toward their duties.

 

## ♔Chapter Five: The Princes, Scandalous! ♔

 

Hand in hand, Shoma led Nathan through the maze of the royal palace, down one long corridor that turned and bent this way and that, seeming to double back on itself as it circumscribed the sprawling breadth of the royal family’s personal palatial wings. Once they reached the more public section of the palace, the path became more straightforward, and a series of several short corridors and a few turns brought them from the palace interior out into an open balconnade, and then out into a large courtyard above which there was only the open arch of the sky.

It really felt, Shoma thought, like he might really have someone to love now, someone to cherish. He liked that idea, and held onto it like a secret as they continued to walk together. Servants milled about at respectful distances, always silent, and it was easy to feel like Nathan and he were truly alone together, enjoying a private quiet moment just between them. Shoma followed the edge of the courtyard, walking slowly, giving Nathan plenty of time to look around, to take in the details of the palace’s structure: the huge courtyard grounds they now walked through and the smaller central plaza, lined by delicate rows of sapling trees, where preparations for the evening’s entertainment were nearly finished.

This plaza, small only by comparison to the vast courtyard grounds it was centered within, was a space designated on these grounds specifically for occasions such as this: weddings, births, coming of age celebrations, holidays, and other occasions of pomp and circumstance of state. Paper lanterns were strung up on bamboo poles connected by strings, marking out the edges of the plaza. In its center was a long, large wooden dance floor polished and lacquered so brightly as to nearly be reflective. It would soon be scuffed by the shoes of dancers, but for now, it remained perfectly unmarred. At the far end, on a shallow raised platform, a band set themselves up to play for the rest of the night. Along one long side, a banquet of delicacies were being prepared for the guests to enjoy, should they decide not to dance.

Already guests had arrived and begun talking amongst themselves, gossiping and craning their necks, looking curiously to the edges of the courtyard. Doors all along the palace halls opened and closed regularly as servants came and went, carrying platters of food and beautiful arrangements to decorate the tables: sculptures made of delicate edible flowers, multi-tiered glass dishes layered deep with the rarest and most delectable raw fish, ornately prepared and arranged on tiers surrounding the dish's central goblet, in which rainbow-bright decorative fish swam in lively patterns.

Despite the distance between the celebration plaza and the servants’ hallways, from which the party guests had no real chance of discerning anything of note, all watched curiously: nobles, merchants, branch family princesses, and social climbers alike, all peering nosily at each movement from within the palace. This place was normally unavailable to all but the royal family, a shrouded source of mystery to the public and nobles alike, so it was a grand opportunity for all who had been invited to sate their own curiosity, and to collect stories with which they would attempt to impress and make envious their noble peers who had not been invited here.

Upon the princes’ arrival, an excited murmur went up from all the gathered guests. Many heads turned to look as the guests of honor entered the courtyard, walking together toward the celebration plaza at a stately pace. As they approached and the whispering grew louder, Shoma did his best to ignore both the words he could overhear and the people saying them, instead searching the crowd for familiar faces.  With great relief, Shoma spotted a bouncing white and purple sleeve waving at him over the heads of the assembled crowd, and his entire frame relaxed.

♔

There were already more guests than Nathan would have anticipated. He knew that the palace was a very cloistered sort of place, and so he assumed that everyone he saw was some level of nobility, as it had been at the wedding ceremony. They seemed to be having a good time so far, at least, though as soon as he and Shoma arrived, heads started turning, leaning together, and voices began whispering. Nathan supposed he should have expected that. They were the focal point of the event, after all. Doing his best to control his own exhaustion and to control his own expression, keeping his own feelings off his face, Nathan readied himself for a new kind of battle as they closed the the distance between them and the waiting crowd. He wasn't going to embarrass Shoma.

If Nathan's clothes were causing any kind of stir, he didn't notice it. He kept his arm comfortably around Shoma's waist, hoping the posture could be seen as respectful while also being somewhat restrained. This close to one another, he could feel the way Shoma physically relaxed, and he turned his head to track Shoma's gaze to its target.

Even Nathan recognized Yuzuru as he slipped gracefully through the crowd. He was taller than many of the people he was passing, and sort of thin and willowy, which when combined with his wide sleeves and trailing ribbons, gave him the appearance of swaying motion even when he stood still. Which he was certainly not doing, at the moment. He had his eyes on Shoma, and Nathan too, he supposed, and was crossing through the crowd toward the new couple.

"You and he are very close," Nathan said, leaning in to speak directly into Shoma's ear, "aren't you?"

"He is my cousin, on my father's side," Shoma answered with a small smile, tilting his head to move his lips closer to Nathan’s ear, speaking without needing to raise his voice. "I have known him all my life, and he is my very good friend. You can trust him." Trust was very important with the lives they led as well, and it was good for Nathan to know who he could rely on, should crisis occur. Shoma sometimes lamented the very short list of people he could trust around him.

"Oh." Nathan wasn't sure why that surprised him, but it did. Maybe because he hadn't realized they were related by blood. "That's good. I'm glad you have friends you can trust," he said, meaning every word. Shoma was surely surrounded on all sides by people vying for his attention, favour, or praise. It must surely be nice for him to also have a few people he could relax around, and judging from the way Shoma's entire posture relaxed when Yuzuru approached them, not to mention the familiarity with which Yuzuru greets them both as he draws near, Nathan felt certain that Yuzuru was one of the people around whom Shoma must be most comfortable.

♕

Hanyu Yuzuru liked parties.  He liked crowds of people to talk to and interact with.  And he liked to watch them interacting with each other, too, while he observed. He liked being around people in general, really, and parties, where most of the guests were present to enjoy themselves, relax, and spend time with their favorite people, were a great place to do that.

This evening, as the sun settled slowly further down in the sky, edging its way toward the clay-slated roofs of the royal palace, and the courtyard filled steadily with the tightly-leashed energy of High Society on display, Yuzuru looked around at his surroundings and sighed. This was not a party.

As could be expected of an event of this significance, the royal family's guests were all individuals of rank, note, or influence within Tzigane. And so, as is the nature of politicians, social climbers, and brown-nosing social sycophants, not a one of them was about to miss the opportunity to grease elbows, strike alliances, and flatter their way further into the good graces of those richer, stronger, or more favored than themselves. And very little would dissuade these ambitious men and women from their goals -- not even an evening like this, meant for celebration of their prince regent's new marriage and the fresh-struck peace with Praeludium that it heralded.

With everyone seeking the same goal, the energy in the courtyard, even this early in the festivities, was aggressively charged. Nobles young and old mingled together in the courtyard, all speaking with poisonously saccharine intent. Cloying, sweet and complimentary, and hollow as clapperless bells. Using words carelessly, promising anything they thought might advance themselves in others' regard, they reminded Yuzuru of poorly-trained cats, who would turn from hopeful to vicious in the instant they discovered you had run out of morsels to feed them.

Yuzuru sighed. A noble himself, but one in less favor than many, he found all the petty jockeying tiresome. Regardless of his peers' opinion of him, or even of the opinions of his elders, Yuzuru simply couldn't find it in himself to put effort into the political game-playing. Why should he? He and his family lived comfortably, wanting for nothing. What else did they need to gain?

But to not make an appearance at this gala? Unthinkable for any of the nobility who wished to remain out of the king's disfavor. Particularly unthinkable for the eldest Hanyu son.

Yuzuru smoothly swanned his way across the courtyard, straight toward Shoma, beaming widely and waving even more broadly.  As he approached, he studied Shoma's posture, and that of his new spouse. They seemed comfortable in each other's presence, and proximity - far more comfortable than Yuzuru might have expected after less than a day of marriage.  A good sign.

As he reached conversational distance, Yuzuru cheerily hailed Shoma, addressing his prince regent with the casual warmth that few but Yuzuru could get away with.

"Shoma! Congratulations!"  An embrace, warmer than strictly appropriate for the occasion, preceded a much more appropriately reserved bow of respect, acknowledging Shoma's rank and status.  "Congratulations on your wedding, and your marriage to come," Yuzuru continued. His eyes crinkled nearly closed with the genuine warmth of his smile.

Then Yuzuru turned to the man at Shoma's side.

Nathan was nearly as tall as Yuzuru himself, a somewhat unusual quality to begin with. He had excellent posture, exuding strength and confidence as he stood beside, and just a fraction of a pace behind, his husband. And he had been looking to Shoma for guidance, subtly but certainly, since they entered the courtyard, and probably well before. Nathan clearly understood the fragile social precipice that Shoma balanced upon, as well as Nathan's own ability, by nature of his new position as royal spouse, to either stabilise that position or propel Shoma shamefully downward. It was clear that Nathan not only understood the gravity of their delicate balance, but had already committed himself to supporting Shoma in maintaining it.

Yuzuru already liked him.

"Nathan-san." Yuzuru offered a greeting that was perfectly balanced between warmth and formality. "I am delighted to finally meet you. Please, call me Yuzuru."

And, because he expected a reaction from Shoma, he made sure to glance aside at his cousin as he invited Nathan to participate in such casual informality.

♔

Yuzuru always managed to carry himself with such grace that Shoma still sometimes wondered if he was truly human. The hug Yuzuru offered was very welcomed, and Shoma returned it in turn, his arms lingering around Yuzuru briefly before letting him step back into a proper greeting. "Yuzu-kun. I'm glad you could make it." He kept to Common for Nathan's sake. Could they do lessons in Tzigane's native tongue? Would that be too much? Maybe Shoma could learn some of Nathan's home language to surprise him.

"No party is complete without you," Shoma added with a light chuckle.

♔

Yuzuru greets Shoma by name, but with congratulations that are clearly meant for the both of them, and Nathan echoes Shoma's little grateful bow. That much, he has expected - there are certain things undoubtedly expected of Nathan at this party, and he figures that most of them are to be quiet and look good. He's ready to do that, and whatever else it takes to keep scrutiny off of them - to keep people from looking at Nathan as some disaster that Shoma is failing to deal with.

Which is what leaves Nathan a little bit helpless when Yuzuru turns directly to him. Calls him by name, expresses happiness to meet him. Again, Nathan bows, but that doesn't seem to be enough. His own nature demands that he offer a response - it would be the only polite and respectful thing to do. To thank Yuzuru for his kind words, at least. But this isn't his home, this is Tzigane where the servants aren't allowed to speak. He cuts his eyes towards Shoma, seeking... He's not sure what. An indication of what Shoma wants him to do, he guesses.

Catching sight of Nathan's searching, hesitant gaze, Shoma curls his arm behind his husband and touches the small of his back to encourage him to speak. Nathan looks so lost, and Shoma wants to make sure that his husband and his cousin speak for a while - even if Nathan technically isn't 'supposed' to speak, as indicated by the clothes given to him to wear tonight. That wasn’t Shoma's idea, and he didn't intend to abide by it, nor currently cared who might be judging him for that. Shoma wants Nathan to know Yuzuru. If, for whatever reason, something were to happen to Shoma, Nathan would need allies to at least return home to Praeludium safely, and Shoma trusts that Yuzuru could be one of those allies.

Shoma's hand at his back is reassuring, and Nathan gives him a grateful smile. At least, he hopes that's how it seems. It's what he feels anyway.

"Thank you." Nathan says at last, quietly. Some people near enough still turn to give him judgmental looks, but the majority of the crowd is loud enough and far enough away that they don't even notice that the outsider is speaking. Shoma's encouraging touch helps him continue to speak. "Yuzuru-san. I look forward to getting to know you better."

Yuzuru is gratified to see Shoma relax with the addition of his presence. He knows many of the pressures Shoma has to bear, and takes pride in being a comfort and a contrast to the treatment Shoma generally gets.  Nathan seems perplexed by him, which is fine by Yuzuru; they'll come to understand each other better in time, but it will take time.

Yuzuru smiles encouragingly when Nathan answers him. He seems nervous, but aside from the pressure of the evening's events, Yuzuru can't tell if there's something else on the newlywed's mind.

"I'll have to ask you to look after me tonight, the both of you," Yuzuru says, leaning close to confide at a low volume.  "Everyone else here is so dull!"

Shoma quickly raises his finger to lips, shushing his cousin, but he can't fully hide his broad smile behind that finger. His nose wrinkles in an effort to keep from laughing. "Careful, Yuzu-kun. You will get us all in trouble, and my apology letter writing does not need practice."

Listening to the cousins’ banter, Nathan's in no position to either agree or argue with Yuzuru, but he can't help but shoot a little grin at him anyway. That little scrunched-up smile is an expression Nathan has not seen on Shoma's face before, and he feels deeply thankful to Yuzuru for causing him to make it. He's known Shoma for less than a day, but he can already tell how much stress and pressure the man is under. Nathan's grateful for any opportunity for Shoma to actually relax and enjoy himself, especially around this crowd of simpering nobility that is undoubtedly waiting for him to screw up merely so they'll have something to talk about for the next few weeks.

Shoma’s thoughts are following a similar pattern to his husband’s. He casts his gaze over the crowd around them, and the nearby onlookers immediately pretend they hadn't been looking at Nathan and Yuzuru. He makes note of the ones he did catch, and his gaze briefly becomes unreadable, sharpened and dark, and quite deliberately more unsettling than any other expression he's made through the day. Then he returns his attention to his friend and husband, tucking away the knowledge he'd gathered for use at another time. If these sycophants were going to play this sort of game, he would remember their faces.

Most of the people who looked at them looked away as soon as they realized they had been noticed. But there were a few who seemed more confident in their apparent disdain. A part of Nathan knew he should probably be careful, be respectful, let their insulting disdain pass unchallenged. But something about Yuzuru's presence made him feel a little reckless. Nathan directly meets the gaze of someone whose disgust is not even remotely disguised, and leans in to press his lips to Shoma's cheek. It’s too early for the bitchy nobles to start making a scene if they still want to remain at the party to gain personal status, so Nathan decides he's going to get his in while he still can.

Rebellion done, he then smiles and gives Shoma a little affectionate squeeze.

"How is your family, Yuzu?” Shoma is asking Yuzuru, speaking Common. “Are they well?"

Nathan interjects before Yuzuru can respond, addressing Yuzuru with a smile. "Please, don't feel you need to speak Common for my benefit. Shoma has been including me all day. He's tired."

♕

Yuzuru is _impressed_. It seems Nathan's not wholly unfamiliar with the push and pull of social climbing.  It's obvious, as he chooses his ground and stands it, that he intends not to be pushed around. He understands that some are better avoided than confronted, but also that some can't be won over.  

As much as he dislikes high society, Yuzuru does have to admit that it's much easier to read people when they're restricting their behavior within such a limited framework. Inside that framework, even strangers become as legible as an open book.  And in this moment, he's very grateful for that, because it's allowing him to see all the way through his beloved cousin's new, unknown spouse.

He likes what he sees. And when Nathan kisses Shoma's cheek, Yuzuru smiles. No, he _beams_.  As far as he's concerned, tonight has just become a party again.

"Oh, Nathan! That's so generous of you. I really appreciate it, but of course I wouldn't want to exclude you."

A pause.

"So even though I'm about to, you can be reassured that it's definitely not personal."

Yuzuru turns to Shoma, leaning close, and his expression snaps from a dreamy, soft smile into sharp intensity in a split second.  He speaks quickly, in Tzigane.

"I appreciate the speed with which he's adjusting. It's a lot of change to make in a short amount of time, and he's clearly making it a priority to look out for you, and to enhance you with his support. He's already better than I hoped."

"I will of course support your happiness in every way I am able. I know you have been pushed into this situation without free choice. You surely have more weight on your shoulders than I can imagine, as a branch family son. And we both know it will only become worse as time goes on and the peace treaty negotiations become snarled by the machinations of these people." He sweeps his arm out to the side, encompassing the entire plaza full of nobility and statesmen.

"I will not suffer them, or anyone, to cast shame or scorn on you, or on your husband, because of your position, this union - or even because of his nationality. But you must keep me in your confidence so that I can do so. I know the way that you draw into yourself under pressure. Do not shut me out, Shoma. You must promise me this."

Shoma wasn't sure what just happened between Nathan and Yuzuru. He must have missed some social cue when he wasn't paying attention (an occurrence that happened often, it seemed). Whatever it was, Yuzuru seems pleased and Nathan had kissed Shoma on the cheek, which had pulled Shoma out of his brief daze. He looks between the two of them, perplexed, but doesn't question it.

While he would never volunteer the admission, Shoma does easily become exhausted from speaking Common, and the sudden relief from that expectation feels like a physical weight lifting from his mind. He resolves to thank Nathan later, when they are alone again.

Meanwhile, speaking their native tongue, Yuzuru has become intense, like a switch was flipped. Accustomed to his cousin's mercurial demeanor, Shoma recognizes Yuzuru is serious and nods along accordingly.

"Thank you, Yuzu-kun. I cannot express to you how much that means to me. You have always been a good friend, even when we were young. It is good to know that I can trust you during these negotiating times, as I always have." Shoma places a hand over his chest to emphasize his gratitude.

"Even though this is not of my own volition, I will make the best of this situation. It is for the good of the country and so far, I see no problems. Nasan has been very kind and understanding, and seems to be willing to work with me to continue seeking peace. I know this could have turned out far worse, so I know I am very lucky." He glanced to Nathan and smiled at him. He wanted Nathan to at least know he was saying nice things at least.

"I will do my best to come to you. Your wisdom and presence is always welcome." He paused and decided to hold out his pinky finger. "I won't withdraw from you. I promise." Immature as it was, he felt that this serious topic was almost too much and, while not binding by any gods or country, Shoma still took pinky promises seriously enough. Yuzuru didn't need to help him as much as he did, and as always Shoma wishes there were some more concrete way to show his gratitude. But this is all he can think of.

Yuzuru's charmed, as always, by the very Shoma-y dazedness Shoma had drifted into. He does it frequently, but Yuzuru still finds it cute.  With one hand around Shoma's back, Yuzuru pulls Shoma closer to himself, and meanwhile steps nearer to Nathan. They're standing very close to each other now, and Yuzuru knows he can't long remain this physically close to the new couple without gaining more criticism than is worthwhile. It's the Tzigane love of reserve and severity at work again. Which is a shame, because Yuzuru loves cuddling.

He steps back with a smile for Nathan, firmly encouraging. _All good things,_ that smile says.

He nods respectfully to Shoma. "We will speak more another time. When we have privacy."  He nods again, this time to Nathan, and repeats himself in Common. "There are ears in the bushes," he adds, then tilts his head to the side, glancing up to the slowly purpling sky with a distracted smile. "And you have no more time for my babbling. I believe that's your song."

Yuzuru steps back with a shallow bow, extending his arm in invitation toward the center of the courtyard, where a quickly clearing halo of paving stone is in the process of being lit with the warm, romantic glow of numerous pendant lamps, pedestal lamps, and mounted torches. Their firelight would surround and illuminate a couple standing in the center, but would also likely brightly block out most of the couple's vision of the audience surrounding them. A cozy, reassuring bubble of temporary safety, in the midst of circling sharks.

Yuzuru's happy to see that the additional lighting he'd requested had been acquired, despite the lateness of his request. He offers his smile to the pair of them in turn, trying to offer encouragement with the earnest crinkle of his eyes, the firm curve of his lips. He can't help Shoma and Nathan impress the nobles, to dazzle and distract their would-be detractors. And he knows that despite his fears, that they are strong and will find their way through these treacherous crowds without his help. But for a moment, as he reluctantly lets them go back toward the teeth of their enemies, he earnestly wishes that he could.

"Congratulations again, my prince, my prince's consort. Enjoy your dance."

♔

Nathan finds there's something really amusing about Yuzuru's attentiveness to Nathan's feelings. He invited them freely to speak their own language. He wanted Shoma to be able to be as comfortable as he could be, considering the circumstances. And letting him speak freely with one of his dearest friends was part of that too. He also needed to remember to tell Shoma that he was comfortable with Shoma reverting to Tzigane as often as he needed to, when speaking with other nobles, or his family or servants even. Either Nathan would learn enough to get along with, or not. But either way, Shoma deserved to speak comfortably in his home.

And besides, if Shoma does have anything to say about Nathan to the people Shoma knows far better than he knows Nathan himself, the people who matter most to him, he wants Shoma to be able to say it.

Tzigane is such a fast language, and all the words seem to roll into each other. Nathan is quickly left in the dust, absent even the most basic chance to follow the thread of their talk. He catches Shoma's name from Yuzuru with a certain intensity, and his own name in Shoma's response. His stomach does what is beginning to become a predictable little flutter over hearing his name from Shoma's lips.

While Yuzuru and Shoma talk, Nathan turns his attention elsewhere for a moment, watching servants moving here and there, some with drinks, some bringing in what looked like some kind of detailed lanterns. Probably for the dance that must be coming sooner rather than later. The crowd seems relatively thick - though not as crowded as the wedding ceremony had been. Obviously an invitation to this part of the proceedings was a lot more difficult to obtain.

Nathan has begun to notice patterns in the expressions he sees directed at him from the crowd around them. Younger nobles are likely to look more annoyed, disappointed. He guesses they were the ones who wished they were in Nathan's place, married to their prince regent. Probably most carried only a thirst for power, but there might have been a few who were genuinely interested in Shoma as a person, and thought that they could be better for him than an outsider.

Older nobles, on the other hand, were giving Nathan cold looks, some even displaying hints of anger or disgust too strong to be concealed behind the expected decorum of Tzigane polite society. These elderly nobles have lived much of their lives through wartime, enough to hate him based on his name and nationality alone. Nathan thought he was unlikely to run into many military people at this particular event, but when did nobility ever need to be involved in battle to form opinions? Even if he weren't a member of the Praeludian Imperial family, he would still be Praeludian first, in their eyes. A stranger, unworthy of their Prince.

Their regard chills him.

Nathan's attention is brought back into the moment when he feels Shoma's arm tighten around him, and he looks up to find Yuzuru standing very close indeed. He finds himself tilting his head a bit, and biting back a little laugh. "Thank you." He says quietly, while Yuzuru is still close enough to hear him and hide his mouth moving from judgemental eyes. "For your care and affection for my spouse."

He wants to say more, to thank him for his freedom of affection and expression, for how he was managing to make Nathan feel at home in a way he had otherwise so far only felt when alone with Shoma. But before he can even start to figure out how to say any of that, most importantly without being insulting, Yuzuru is bowing himself away, and more and more heads are turning to look at them. Not, however, with the hungry expressions Nathan had been catching so far. Many of the gazes looking at them now are simply politely expectant.

"I suppose we should take our place, my Prince." Nathan gives a little bow, and lifts Shoma's hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles.

Shoma hears the band finish their tuning and then fall silent, watching and waiting for the couple to begin the dance. The crowd parts for them, baring a path to the dancing floor.

Holding Nathan's hand, Shoma guides him to the middle of the dance floor and turns in place to present both himself and Nathan to the crowd, almost as though they were entertainment hired to be here. This performance will be for the two of them, in commemoration of their marriage, but also for the sake of those around them. Shoma is ready to perform. A switch has been flipped within him, and Shoma holds a stern, serious expression on his face, something beautiful and aloof, as they take their places.

Shoma's serious expression has come back, and Nathan certainly can't blame him for that. He takes his position, aligning his hand with Shoma's, and gives him a little smile before the music flourishes, hoping to at least put Shoma at his ease, even if he can't show it.

In the center of the dancing circle, Shoma holds up his hand for Nathan to lay his against it in the first position of the waltz he had taught him, trusting Nathan to remember what he had been taught not an hour before. Shoma nods to Nathan once, confident in his new spouse. He will not count out loud for Nathan here, but simply pray the repetitive lesson has stuck.

The music starts. Beginning with the plucked, struck keys of piano, it then adds the voices of a flute and some percussion. They spin one way, then another, then take the appropriate positions for their next steps. Shoma only has eyes for Nathan, now, giving in to the moment, letting it enwrap them.

Shoma leads the way, walking them through the first few steps. He decides in the moment, for the sake of show and making Nathan look better, to widen their steps, making their circling movements longer and more dramatic. It is a performance, after all, and hopefully Nathan's leg can handle it. In truth, Shoma knows that dancing ostentatiously will look better to their spectators, but also, he's a little bit lost in the moment. This is _fun_. Dancing is enjoyable, even under harsh pretenses such as these. And, yes, he also wants to show the world how incredibly lucky he is. No one else could have Nathan now, and that very thought, which this morning held no significance to him, now makes his heart flutter.

Soon after a few minutes, the king and queen, who had been waiting on the other side of the stage amongst their own peers, gracefully walk onto the dancing floor, opposite Nathan and Shoma, so the two couples would mirror each other. Soft applause followed their entry, which meant that other nobility now had permission to waltz as well.

Even as the dance floor filled with other couples, Shoma cares very little. He's swept up in this moment, enjoying being this close to Nathan in front of the crowd.

♔

The dance feels different with all of these spectators, but the steps start off the same, and Nathan can remember the gentle rhythm of Shoma's voice counting in threes. He knows this, though he only learned it a bit ago, and he badly wants to prove all of the doubters wrong. So when Shoma starts taking longer strides, Nathan swallows his pain and exhaustion and matches Shoma step for step, making the performance the priority. He will probably pay for this with much more pain tomorrow, but he expected that going in, and something about Shoma's expression, the way he lifts his head and still manages to look up at Nathan from beneath his lashes, looking so coy while still being so serious and focused and severe...

It's breathtaking.

A small round of applause breaks out in the crowd, and then there are other couples arriving on the floor. While there are still plenty of people looking at them, they aren't the only focus of attention anymore, and their dance seems to breathe more easily, moving them both together in a momentum that has them both swept up in its spell. Nathan can't help himself. He steps closer to Shoma, keeping up the waltz's steps at the same time as closing the distance between them. With his hand on Shoma's shoulder, moving between beats of the music, Nathan leans in to kiss him again.

♔

Nathan at least seemed stable, and could follow Shoma's lead, and for a while, everything seemed perfect. His parents were on the floor, soon other nobles would join in, and eventually, they could walk off the floor and disappear back into the crowds. If they played it right, they could dodge most of the insincere well-wishers offering congratulations for him, and find a nice, secluded place to enjoy the fireworks later.

But Nathan pulls him in closer, surprising Shoma. _What was he--?_

Nathan's lips are on his own before he has a chance to stop it. While Shoma has grown to love Nathan's kisses, this time, he feels a sudden, gut-wrenching anxiety. Pushing Nathan back, Shoma whispers a soft "No," a sudden fear in his eyes. Not here. It couldn't be here.

But the damage is done. He can already hear whispers in Tzigane around them. _'Scandalous.' 'Barbaric.' 'Red Demon.'_ His father would have definitely seen.

"Not here." He did his best not to sound like he was scolding Nathan, but hushed tones are so difficult to manage in Common, and his nerves are screaming.

Shoma lets go of Nathan's hip, feeling that they have danced enough, and knowing the song will end soon. He spreads his arms out wide, presenting himself and Nathan to the crowd briefly, before walking between the dancers that had joined in as they all collectively waltzed in circles. The next song started up as Shoma guided Nathan off the dance floor and towards the least crowded area of the plaza.

♔

It felt so good for a moment. And then Shoma was pulling away, looking... Absolutely terrified. Nathan's stomach lurches over that expression, watching Shoma's careful control shatter for a moment. And it's his fault.

He couldn't help himself, he thought, but damn it, he should have _tried_. Idiot. Letting himself get caught up in the moment, forgetting that he wasn't among friends and family but surrounded by strangers, many of whom would probably be happy to put a knife in his back if they could figure out how to do it without bloodying their hands.

"I'm so sorry," Nathan manages, just a little whisper. There are other whispers, around them, and Nathan doesn't need to know Tzigane to know that they're talking about him. About how terrible he is for their prince. How he doesn't belong here.

Well, they're right about that, and he can't blame them for hating him all the more. He's dressed like a slave, and he's gone and flaunted his own upbringing as if he has no respect for Shoma or his family.

Nathan keeps his face as neutral as he can, echoing Shoma's movements of presentation and adding some bows for good measure, and then Shoma's leading him through the crowd. Nathan can't help but notice how they part for them. How much of it is out of respect for Shoma, and how much disgust for him?

When they finally stop moving, they're not alone, by any means, but they're tucked far enough away from the dance floor, against a latticed garden wall, that anyone who was paying attention to them now would obviously be purposefully eavesdropping. It's as good as they'll get for now.

Shoma doesn't want to put Nathan on the spot, but he has to speak up, to begin to explain, for Nathan to know. "That... Why... did you do that?" he asks softly, trying to collect himself, to settle his mind. He isn't mad, not at all. Nathan doesn't know what he's done. And if Shoma could have it his way, he would kiss Nathan all the time, regardless of who was around. But it is not his society's way.

Nathan hangs his head. Shoma doesn't sound angry, or even really upset. Just alarmed and afraid, and honestly, that's worse. "I'm sorry. I got caught up- I lost control. I should have... It won't happen again."

The worst part, Nathan thinks, is that he kept telling himself that he didn't want to be the reason for Shoma to feel shame, or be ridiculed or insulted by these people. And for all of his good intentions, when it mattered the most, he'd let himself go, acted impulsively and selfishly, and now Shoma would have to clean up after him. All of this was never actually going to reflect on Nathan. It was Shoma's responsibility to acclimate him, to assimilate him, and Nathan had already screwed up so many times in just one day.

He's tired, certainly, but so is Shoma, and that's no excuse. If their positions were reversed, Shoma would be seen as cold and maybe even uninteresting in Praeludian society, but it would be treated as a matter of amusement, at worst. _Strange youngest child with his odd inclinations,_ they'd say about Nathan, about his choice of spouse, _but he seems happy._

It felt like Shoma wasn't allowed to be happy. To enjoy himself. What was the point of having a spouse, then? If they'd wanted to keep him as a... concubine or a slave or something, why hadn't they just done that? They won the war, they made the rules. Why put their Crown Prince in this position?

Shoma can see how much Nathan is bothered by this. He wants to say that it was okay, that Nathan hadn't done anything wrong. He wants to stop Nathan from looking that way, from hanging his head in shame at the thought of being affectionate with him. But he can't. It's not, strictly, true. They will have to learn some kind of balance between their two inclinations. Shoma will work on that, because he feels responsible for this happening at all. For not preparing Nathan well enough.

"You are new here, " Shoma starts, picking his words carefully should any nobles be listening. "Our cultures are different, and so I cannot blame you for acting on what you are used to."

"I'm sorry." Nathan repeats, meeting Shoma's eyes. He glances around, trying to figure out how much he can say right now, without insulting Shoma further. "I promise I will explain myself to you, when we're alone again. Alright?"

Shoma places gentle fingers under Nathan's chin to make him look up at him and smiles, just for him, soft and kind. "I understand, and I forgive you." Shoma will handle this. Any complaints, anything at all, he will handle it, can handle it, for Nathan. Even if it means talking to people he doesn't like at all.

Nathan closes his eyes. Of course Shoma forgives him. He doesn't deserve it, not by a long shot, but... Well, hopefully Nathan will be able to make it up to him somehow.

Shoma lets the conversation end there, his hand falling away from Nathan's chin to find Nathan's hand instead and hold it carefully. Nathan's hands feel staggeringly warm in his own. They are both probably at their limit.

Shoma starts to lead Nathan away, hoping to leave behind the crowds completely, but is stopped by a few nobility, congratulating him and speaking only Tzigane, leaving Nathan out deliberately. Shoma tries to thank them and move along, but the hollow pleasantries drag on and on, and by the time they're done, it's clear he has failed to escape quickly enough.

A man, tall and slender, in a uniform that made Shoma's look cheap: navy blue, with gold epaulettes, gold swirls leading down his arms, and a sash across his chest, made of fabric of the richest quality, dyed in the deepest royal Tzigane blue. Shoma freezes in place before him and bows deeply, shoving Nathan down into an even deeper bow with a hand on his back.

"お父様” Shoma says, voice devoid of emotion as he rises from his bow.  "Nasan. I present to you... King Uno."

♛

Shoma's hands feel so cold, as he grips Nathan's tight and leads him through the crowd. Nathan isn't sure where they're going, but he's happy to fall back and let Shoma take the lead. This is what's right, here in this place, and while he wishes he could take some of the burden from Shoma's shoulders, he knows he can't. Not yet anyway. So for now, while in public, he must simply follow Shoma's lead, let Shoma take command, and do what he can to relieve him once they're alone. That should be fine.

Shoma stops suddenly, and everything feels very quiet somehow. The crowd is still making noise, the band is still playing their next song. But somehow, there is a tense feeling of quiet and reverence just here, where they've stopped, and then Shoma's hand is hard on Nathan's back, guiding him into a much deeper bow than he had yet had reason to offer.

Looking up, not at the man's face but taking in his outfit and his bearing and the way Shoma's hand feels like it was freezing right though Nathan's shirt… Nathan knows who this man is even without Shoma's introduction.

Nathan's mouth opens, reflexively. At home, it would only be respectful for a visitor or newcomer to greet the reigning monarch and express gratitude for their hospitality. But in this country, where servants were dressed to stand out and expected to stay silent, where a simple kiss in the heat of the moment between a married couple could be seen as barbaric... No, he's not going to mess this up. He simply holds the bow for as long as he physically can, and keeps his head bowed respectfully when his hip finally protests at the angle and makes him stand upright once more.

Silent. Respectful. He can do this. He **_will_ ** do this.

♛

Shoma stands before his king, and there is a tense moment of silence that stretches, waiting for a mistake, a misstep, to break it. Shoma can almost feel one of many knots of tension untangling itself within his chest when Nathan visibly decides against speaking to the king unprompted. Speak when spoken to is typically the way of things, doubly so for foreigners and servants. And the clothing Nathan had been sent to wear this evening has made very clear to Shoma where in that ranking his family felt his new husband belonged.

King Uno looks Nathan over and nods approvingly at his silence.

"It was a beautiful ceremony," he begins, his voice low and quick, his Common perfect. "The union of Praeludium and Tzigane has only just begun. We expect great things from you, Prince Nathan."

Then, he turns his attention entirely to Shoma, as if Nathan ceased to exist when no longer in his sight, and speaks in their native tongue. _"You will train him to do better. Today was almost a failure. Do not disappoint me. Do you understand?"_ His voice is stern and disciplined, carrying within it an intensely restrained note of disapproval, a disappointment in his son that stops just short of scolding.

Shoma swallows hard and nods stiffly, offering only a sharp, uncharacteristic _"Yes,"_ in response. His face is unreadable. He can barely even look at his father, struggling to focus his gaze. It feels easier to look right past him, over the king's shoulder into empty air.

_"Good. This is far too important to fail. You know your duties to your country. Now, go. We cannot have you fainting in public."_ The king gestures outward, a wave to dismiss them both.

Shoma bows and, before he has the chance to be called upon by anyone else, he breaks for the edge of the plaza and the darkened courtyard beyond, privacy and freedom, pulling Nathan with him.

♔

The King spoke Common with only the barest trace of an accent, a diplomatic voice clearly practiced for years, holding just enough of the Tzigane inflection to remind the listener who they're dealing with. Nathan nodded respectfully at the words that were obviously meant to him, and then tried his best not to let himself listen too closely to the exchange between father and son. It wasn't his place, it wasn't his language, and while the cold and sharp tone in Shoma's voice sounds unnatural to Nathan, he imagines it's just another thing he's going to have to get used to.

Nathan had been far from the throne, back home, but his parents had loved him. They expressed pride in his accomplishments on the battlefield, and while there is certainly a part of Nathan that knows they had sent him to Tzigane because he was the most expendable member of the royal family, he liked to think that he also had been chosen because he could do this right. War wasn't something a good monarch desired. If this union between their two countries went well, it could mean incredible things for Praeludium. Nathan was not trained as a diplomat, but he was eager, always, to please. Just learning how to please these people, that would take some time. But Nathan was certain he could do it.

The relationship between Shoma and his father, on the other hand... It felt cold. Shoma didn't feel frightened, per se, but he was clearly not particularly happy to speak with the king either.

Nathan brought his attention back around as he felt Shoma's hand flex on his back again, and he bowed alongside him once more before they were able to escape the crowd completely.

♔

In the shadows of the broad courtyard, lit only by moonlight and a bit of lamplight stretching weakly into the gloom from the celebration plaza, it's comfortably quiet and dark. The music and chatter of the party are only a distant mumble. Shoma hasn't slowed, though they're far enough away for true privacy by now, so Nathan pulls back on Shoma's hand, dragging them to a stop, and pulls him into a quick and chaste hug. Though he lets Shoma go again just as quickly, they're alone, for the time being, so just that much should be alright, surely?

"I'm sorry," Nathan says again, because what else is he supposed to say? Even Shoma's father is clearly blaming him for Nathan's mistakes. It isn't fair.

Shoma wasn't really thinking when he walked away from his father. His mind had gone a bit blank, and stayed that way, so when Nathan pulls him into a hug, Shoma finds himself pulled out of his daze, tumbling back into reality, where Nathan's touch grounds him. He's met with an apology, and frowns.

Why was Nathan apologizing _again_? Shoma's already offered forgiveness, and he meant it.  He blinks up at Nathan, further surprised as the hug that anchored him out of his daze is ended so quickly. Too quickly. Shoma glances around them, taking stock of their surroundings. He's taken them far from the party, to the edge of the courtyard grounds, where partygoers would definitely not trespass, no matter how bold their ambition. Shoma smiles. This is fine.

Before Nathan can pull any further away from him, Shoma cups both of Nathan's cheeks in his hands and yanks him down, bringing Nathan to Shoma's level and silencing any further apologies with a deep, passionate, very much _not_ chaste kiss.

♔

Oh.

_Oh._

Well, okay.

After the disaster on the dance floor, Nathan hadn't been about to assume _anything_ about intimacy of this sort without Shoma's lead. But, clearly they were alone enough here, and the meaning of a kiss like that couldn't really be misconstrued.  Shoma is confident and Nathan is only too happy to comply, looping his arms around Shoma's waist and holding him up so he doesn't have to strain too much to hold the kiss. Finding that balance together, they kiss, and kiss a bit more, and a bit further still. As far as Nathan's concerned, it's all merely just enough, and lasts perhaps only a single heartbeat longer than is absolutely necessary. And Shoma doesn't hold back. So much so that Nathan is a bit breathless and panting softly when their lips finally, softly, part.

But the lightheaded pleasure of that kiss, the deepest yet he's shared with his new husband, pales as Nathan takes in Shoma's expression in the moonlight. Shoma is smiling again. That's all Nathan wanted.

"I know I should have been more careful." Nathan isn't sure Shoma wants this explanation now, but he _had_ promised to give it as soon as he could speak again. "But I just couldn't help myself. You looked so beautiful in that lighting, and so graceful with the music." He lifts a hand, pushing his fingers carefully through Shoma's hair. It's as soft as it looks. "I won't let it happen again. For your sake."

Shoma feels a bit winded when the kiss finally breaks, but he can't argue that he enjoyed it, despite the thunder of his pulse as he tries to draw steady breath to stabilize himself. He's pleased that Nathan's relaxing again, putting the encounter with Shoma's father behind him, and touched (and a little fondly exasperated) that despite everything, still, Nathan continued to apologize. Nathan can be so sweet, so deeply and profoundly sweet.

Shoma rubs his thumb over Nathan's cheek, savoring the feel of his soft skin while also trying to comfort him. "I liked it," he says, wanting - _needing_ \- Nathan to know his true thoughts. "You were so handsome, it almost got the better of _me_."

Nathan's stomach does another little flutter, like the one that happens when Shoma says his name with his sweet accent - only this time it's completely because of that compliment. It's an incredible sentiment coming from this man, so serious and reserved, with so much weight of expectation on his shoulders. It's a huge relief to know that while the kiss had not been socially acceptable, Shoma's panicked response had only been because of that, and not because Nathan had overstepped some personal boundary of consent.

Nathan gathers Shoma into another gentle hug, cradling him against his chest, guiding Shoma's head into the crook of Nathan's neck and shoulder.

Pulled against Nathan's body, Shoma breathes in his scent. The clothes smell like his home, of course. They’re new, and Nathan hasn't been in them very long, but beneath the scent of fiber and dye, there's a distinct smell of Nathan, of earth and woods, that is so very unique to him. Shoma feels, deeply, that he wants to memorize it.

Wrapped gently around Shoma, Nathan feels a little like he's discovered something new and mesmerizing. Their bodies, their faces and hands tucked close against each other's pulses, fit together in a way that feels deliberate. It feels like more than chance. It feels so right, somehow.

(If only Nathan weren't so worried about how cold Shoma still feels. Hopefully these 'fireworks', whatever they are, will be done with soon so Shoma can finally go to sleep.)

"So. What do we do now?"

Shoma smiles. "Have you ever seen fireworks before?"

♔

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♔  
> whoo boy! they finally got an uninterrupted kiss! yay!
> 
> let's see how badly they pay for it next week.
> 
> as a reminder, all villains in this story are OC's. our skaters' real life families are lovely and sweet and wonderful and definitely not assholes like King Uno, you feel us?
> 
> Easter Egg Hunt time! this week there weren't many new references hidden in here, though we're fairly confident the most obvious one, a garment, won't be too hard for you guys to find.
> 
> next week: everyone's been curious about Shoma's health...and next chapter, you just might get some answers! 
> 
> we are V, chupacabra, and capra, and we thank you for reading. please keep your sweet, giddy, screamy, and lovely comments coming, because they're extremely motivational!


	6. the princes' fireworks, the princes' fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shoma looks again to Nathan. He can see every angle of Nathan's profile under the fleeting white light of the firework's bloom. He looks...statuesque. Possessed of the kind of beauty sculptors celebrate. Shoma leans in, tipping his mouth up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! welcome back! 
> 
> yes, this week's chapter is late. but do you know whyyy? 
> 
> it's because today is Nathan's 20th birthday! and i wanted to post this week's chapter specifically on his birthday, because there's fireworks in this chapter, and i thought, that would be cool, right? like a celebration.
> 
> so happy birthday, Nathan. I hope you *never* find this or any of the other fanfic we write about you.
> 
> alright, as usual, here's a few reminders before we get into it!
> 
> ♔this is fiction, based on selections of personality traits and tropes culled from the publically available personas of real people who are definitely not communicating openly and candidly with each other despite a language barrier. [/shade]
> 
> ♔Tzigane is loosely based on, among other island nations, Japan! V is using some *very* simplified Japanese to represent Shoma's native tongue when he and other Tzigane citizens speak it. if you see any awful errors of meaning (not counting an overuse of hiragana), please let us know!
> 
> ♔Praeludium is based on a synthesis of various real world nation-states and climates, and leans heavily on cultural elements drawn from both the North American Native West and mainland China. their native tongue has two forms, High and Low, and when High is spoken in this story, it is loosely represented with the use of the written Chinese language, as a deferential nod to Nathan's IRL heritage. however, as we don't speak Chinese ourselves - if you see any awful errors of meaning, please let us know!
> 
> ♔all villains and antagonists in this story are our OCs!! and are *not* meant to represent nor mimic, in part or in whole, the real life relations, friends, or identities of any skaters, or any people related to skaters!
> 
> ♔ thank you dearly to this week's beta, the lovely scribblingsquirrels, without whom this chapter would have far too many commas.
> 
> alright, let's go!

Pulled against Nathan's body, Shoma breathes in his scent. The clothes smell like his home, of course. They’re new, and Nathan hasn't been in them very long, but beneath the scent of fiber and dye, there's a distinct smell of Nathan, of earth and woods, that is so very unique to him. Shoma feels, deeply, that he wants to memorize it.

Wrapped gently around Shoma, Nathan feels a little like he's discovered something new and mesmerizing. Their bodies, their faces and hands tucked close against each other's pulses, fit together in a way that feels deliberate. It feels like more than chance. It feels so right, somehow.

(If only Nathan weren't so worried about how cold Shoma still feels. Hopefully these 'fireworks', whatever they are, will be done with soon so Shoma can finally go to sleep.)

"So. What do we do now?"

Shoma smiles. "Have you ever seen fireworks before?"

## ♔ Chapter Six: The Princes' Fireworks, the Princes' Fears ♔

Shoma steps quickly away from the party, until even the faint glow of lantern light is far behind them, and they walk together, hand in hand, through the moonlit nighttime grounds. Shoma leads Nathan confidently deeper into the grounds, following paths he has tread many times before. Nathan keeps firm hold of Shoma's hand, letting Shoma lead the way down a branching path upon which Nathan would surely lose his way if he were on his own.

In this area of the gardens, stone benches are provided for restful sitting just off the path. Above each, two trees, one to either side, created a canopy over the bench and its occupants. Ahead and above them, their view of the night sky is clear. The stars are just starting to shimmer and the moon, now fully risen, is round and bright. Lanternlight is unnecessary to see the path under their feet, or each other's features and expressions.

"The fireworks are next," Shoma explains. "This should be a good spot to watch." He had brought Nathan here specifically, knowing Nathan probably needed to sit after spending such a long day walking on a wound like the one on his hip.

Nathan had been worried he might have to sit on the ground to watch the firework display, given the absence of prepared seating throughout the party and the immediately surrounding grounds. The longer the night went on, the more Nathan knew that if he pushed himself too far, he was more likely to embarrass himself in front of Shoma if he inevitably couldn't stand on his own after sitting on the ground for even a little while. So, the presence of benches offers a relief which Nathan gratefully and quickly takes.

Nathan is tired enough that he even relents to sitting first, instead of waiting for Shoma, and Shoma's far from insulted by this - he's quite glad, honestly, that Nathan can rest for a little while. Shoma is impressed Nathan has lasted even this long on his leg. Tomorrow, he will make sure Nathan has every opportunity to lay down and rest. And if he's very lucky, Shoma too will see some of his own duties put aside for the day. It  _ will  _ be their first day as a married couple, after all.

As Shoma joins him on the bench, Nathan takes both of Shoma's hands up in his, rubbing them between his own palms in an effort to bring warm blood back to his cold fingers. The air is cooling as night settles in and the warmth of the day's sunlight slowly fades away.

"You didn't answer, earlier.  _Have_ you ever seen fireworks before?" Shoma asks, still curious. "I had assumed so, but maybe not?"

"No." Nathan admits with a sheepish little grin. "I don't even know what it is, honestly. It sounds dangerous."

Shoma smiles, a bit excited, letting Nathan rub his hands for now while he begins explaining. "They are like, あの, they fly through the sky-" He pulls one hand free of Nathan's to gesture, illustrating something flying upward at an angle. "When they are done burning, they..." he paused. "Eku-Ekusu- あれ? 爆発?爆発わー” He can't recall how to translate  _ explosion.  _ He can recall the beginning of it, but the whole word just won't come to mind, nor its proper pronunciation. So instead, with both arms, he just makes a really big gesture, first holding his hands together and then yanking them far apart.

"BWAN~!" Shoma giggles and lets his hands flop into his lap.

Nathan watches Shoma try to explain his fireworks, gesturing widely, to illustrate whatever they were. Though he's sure he's missing some of the details, Nathan still thinks that Shoma's explanation of fireworks sounds a lot like a description of some kind of weapon. Flies up into the air, burns, and then...

"Explode?" He asks, growing quite a bit more concerned. Because why would they be making things explode just for the sake of watching it? Tzigane's cannons were formidable, and certainly a large factor in their victory in the war. Explosions, and the things that make them, are weapons.

"Yes," Shoma says. "Thank you. I forgot the word. I like them a lot. Even though normally, I don't get to see them--"

Shoma pauses again, but this time, because he accidentally said too much. Or, almost too much. He doesn't want to be pitied, not now, and his heart really is feeling alright today, really okay, so hopefully he will be able to handle it just fine. "They're usually set off more for commoners to see, but I really do like them a lot."

Just as he finishes explaining, Shoma hears a telltale sharp whistle streaking up into the sky.

"Ah, they're testing," he says, just before the explosion goes off. First, the brilliant circular flare of white sparkles in the sky; then, the loud bang reverberates through the air and the sound that bounces off even the palace buildings at the gardens' edge.

♔

Before Shoma can respond, before Nathan can ask why Shoma wasn't usually allowed to see it, there is a shrill whistle, a trace of light across the sky.

Nathan's battlefield reflexes take over. He slings one arm around Shoma's shoulders, crossed over the back of his neck to protect it from any falling shrapnel. With his other arm, he tucks Shoma's head against his chest. Nathan bends over Shoma to protect him with own his body as well, sheltering his prince as best as he's able. He can feel Shoma's breath hot against his shoulder, and he holds his own breath, waiting, waiting... For the fire-rain to start falling.

♔

Shoma so desperately wanted to see the fireworks, even just this first one for testing, that he didn't even notice Nathan's arms surrounding him until his face was already being buried into Nathan's chest. "Mmph?" What? What was Nathan doing? Did Nathan secretly know about his heart condition anyway, despite seeming not to, and had been lying to him all this time? Was he going to take Shoma inside, out of the gardens? No! He was gonna miss the-

_ Wait _ . Shoma blinks in the darkness of the crook of Nathan's shoulder, realization dawning.

Nathan was a soldier. He'd seen combat... against Tzigane weapons. Shoma knew of the weapons used, knew how effective they were when looking at a map of a battlefield, but had never seen them in combat himself. But he knew, and remembered now, their chemical and structural similarities with the fireworks that had inspired their design. If the sound and, perhaps, the scent, were similar enough...

Did Nathan think they were under attack? Shoma had heard of soldiers coming back from war and having a hard time figuring out their new reality of peacetime. But Nathan had seemed so well adjusted. Clearly, adjustment or no, the war had left him with more scars than those on his hip.

Gently, Shoma places his hands on Nathan's chest, pushing, to pull himself away and out of Nathan's tight hold. "Nasan," Shoma urges, trying to get his attention. "I'm fine. We are not being attacked."

Nathan takes stock of his situation - and Shoma's - piece by piece. Shoma's hands are on his chest, pushing gently. And nothing is falling out of the sky. Well, not on top of them, anyway. Nathan lets out his held breath shakily, and swallows back the taste of fear that had reached up his throat to coat the back of his tongue, while he tries to gain his bearings.

After a few moments, Shoma's voice finally breaks through the ringing in Nathan's ears. He's saying his name. Reassuring him.  _ We are not being attacked. _ Well, obviously, Nathan thought. Praeludium doesn't have these kinds of weapons. But Nathan has to think now: he's not sure what other country does, if any, besides Tzigane. And why would they be attacking their own capital?

Unless enough of the wearied soldiers were really that angry about his presence there, his marriage to their Prince.

Improbable they'd go this far, even if Nathan really couldn't blame them.

Nathan takes another shaky breath. One hand is still on the back of Shoma's neck. The other is resting lightly on his shoulder. Heart racing, Nathan turns his head up to the sky. The fire rain he was expecting from that kind of explosion is nowhere to be found. Whatever is burning in the sky now isn't falling towards them, but spreading out in a flower-shaped blossom of light, glittering like a bloom of extra stars, winking out more and more until, eventually, it is gone.

"Wh-what..." Nathan's mouth is dry, and he has to swallow a few times to get his throat feeling loose enough to speak again. "Oh. Oh. It... Oh." He blinks a few times, feeling a flush rise up his neck and ears. The last twinkling remnants of the explosions replay in his mind's eye and he realizes, truly, his mistake. It's decorative.

He feels suddenly, bitterly embarrassed. "It... It wasn't... I'm sorry."

Shoma tries to read Nathan's expression. Nathan looks so...  _ scared. _ It's completely understandable, if he has never seen fireworks before, only knowing of the fire rain that Tzigane uses in warfare. With his hands on Nathan's chest, Shoma can feel Nathan's heartbeat racing, thundering fast. He is truly terrified, and Shoma feels immediately that he has made a grave error.

Now that the first explosion is over, and Nathan can see that nothing grave has come of it, he can start to calm down. His heart is still pounding, but his breaths are coming easier, as he wills himself toward calmness and composure. He blinks a few times, clearing the after-image of the white blossom on the dark sky.

He feels very stupid as he starts to hear other sounds from the darkened grounds around them. Sounds of awe and appreciation. Even these strict people with their carefully constructed social masks and seeming emotionlessness could be moved to amazement by this display.

Nathan doesn't really want to be so frightened; logically, he knows that it's just a stress reaction. The weapons that make the same sorts of sounds as the fireworks were the sort of stuff nightmares were made of. But this was different, and Nathan knows that now, and Shoma is so  _ hopeful _ . The thought of crushing that hope rests uneasily on Nathan's mind.

Today - just today! - he has been married to a stranger, dressed to purposely draw unflattering comparison between himself and the palace servants, and been insulted to his face,  _ multiple times _ , in a language he doesn't know. And still, in this moment, as another whistle begins, another trail of smoke and light streaks into the air, another gasp of pleasure goes up around them... This is the most out of place that Nathan has felt.

He is truly an outsider.

♔

Shoma is conflicted.

This experience, watching Nathan see fireworks for the first time, was not at all the experience Shoma had so happily planned to share. But Nathan's eyes are on the sky, tracking the shell as it rises. He is visibly reminding himself that it's not a weapon, and not a threat, holding still beside Shoma by an exercise of his strong will.

Maybe... he should give up on seeing the fireworks and take Nathan back to his- their- room. They'll still be able to hear some of the noise from their quarters, but without the sharp immediacy of the noise, perhaps it will be easier for Nathan to handle.

Shoma looks again to Nathan. He can see every angle of Nathan's profile under the fleeting white light of the firework's bloom. He looks...statuesque. Possessed of the kind of beauty sculptors celebrate. Shoma leans in, tipping his mouth up, and presses a gentle kiss under Nathan's jawline.

Shoma's lips are dry and a little rough when he kisses him just under his jaw, and Nathan smiles weakly at him, appreciating the show of affection and the reassurance it offers.

"I am sorry," Shoma says. "I did not think. I am so sorry, Nathan. It's okay. It's an honest mistake." Shoma puts up a brave smile, trying to offer comfort. "We can just go inside for the rest of the night. I do not want you to fear anything here."

''No." Nathan says, and then he flinches again as the next firework explodes in the sky with another dazzling fire burst, this one bright blue. "No, you wanted to see. You've been looking forward to it all day. We'll stay."

Shoma watches Nathan flinch. While he looks so beautiful in this lighting, his fear is palpable. Shoma isn't sure what to say. He wants so desperately to see the rest of the fireworks, but doesn't want to see Nathan continue to flinch and feel frightened every time one goes off.

"Well, how about this?" Shoma reaches up and cups his palms tightly over Nathan's ears, hopefully blocking out the worst of the sound as another firework, this time a brilliant bright red, explodes above them. "Does this help?" Shoma earnestly wants Nathan to enjoy the fireworks with him, but Nathan has been pushing himself for Shoma's sake all day. Was there anything Shoma could do to help aside from this?

Shoma places his hands over Nathan's ears, and Nathan gives him a look that's half curious and half unbearably fond. He's so sweet.

"Yes." Nathan says, maybe a little louder than is necessary. Another flash lights the sky. But the whistle that comes before - the sound that makes Nathan's spine tense and his mind blank out, stripped of anything other than panic and protection - with Shoma protecting him like this, he can't hear that part. And the explosion that follows is muffled, too, by Shoma's hands. Nathan can feel it, sort of, the concussive boom, but it isn't nearly as bad as the first few. Not nearly as bad as hearing it without Shoma's comfort.

"Yes, this helps," Nathan says again, more quietly this time. He puts his arm around Shoma's waist again and draws him near, embracing him close so Shoma can lean on him while he covers Nathan's ears, resting against him while he looks up into the sky.

Shoma smiles in relief. Thank goodness. Now at least Nathan won't be flinching every time, and if he does, Shoma is here to hold him, and be held in turn.

Shoma feels a surge of deep sympathy for Nathan, who has experienced the evil version of this first hand. While there is nothing Shoma can do to change that history, he wants to at least give Nathan the notion that Tzigane people aren't all stiffness, flat emotions and murderers. There is beauty here, in this country that Nathan must now make his home, and joy. It just... shows in different ways.

Pulled in by Nathan, Shoma figures out how to comfortably keep his hands over Nathan's ears without having his shoulders give out on him over time. Contented that he and Nathan are both comfortable as they support each other, Shoma relaxes into watching the fireworks display, finally allowing himself to simply enjoy them. Each one was carefully crafted for this event, colors and shapes designed specifically for this day, the wedding of Praeludium and Tzigane together. Red and blue bursts like spider chrysanthemums, silvery-white ones shaped like fans...there are so many, and all of them the beautiful fruit of many hands' work. Shoma wants to express gratitude by watching as many of the fireworks as possible.

But there are so many. Shoma feels his chest ache from the next thunderous boom and ignores it, because he can't remove his hands from Nathan's ears. Nathan comes first right now. Shoma isn't about to take away the comfort he's offered, or to worry Nathan further. And worst would be if Shoma gave someone else an excuse to check on his condition. He's been fussed over enough today. And to be interrupted now, in the middle of the show? Shoma wants to avoid that at all costs. He's wondered, bleakly, if he'll ever be able to see fireworks again after today. And he thinks that it's quite unlikely. Well, maybe, if he ever has his heart fixed, he could. But that probably will never happen, since miracles rarely do.

♔

Despite his fears, with Shoma's help and comfort, Nathan is able to watch the show and, grudgingly, admit: the firework display is beautiful. But there are only so many explosions he can watch before they all seem similar. Before long, Nathan finds himself less amazed by the brilliant lights in the sky than by the face of the man in his arms - his new husband.

Shoma looks transcendent in the flickering multicolored lights that flash and fade, eyes wide and shining with wonder, love, and joy. His delight is writ clear across his face, and at such a close range to that pure emotion, Nathan is quietly, utterly transfixed.

Nathan wants Shoma to be enjoying the fireworks, because he had wanted to so badly. And it is a beautiful display, but not as beautiful as the expression on Shoma's face as he takes it in. Perhaps Shoma's culture will always be strange to Nathan, but if they can have more moments like this, more or less alone and enjoying the company of one another, Nathan thinks he'll be able to adjust to how quiet and demure he's expected to be when around the rest of the nation. With private moments like this, Nathan feels confident he can fulfill the public role expected of his place at Shoma's side, too.

♔

Shoma isn't sure how long it takes him to notice that he is being watched. When he turns to look, he sees that Nathan has been watching him instead of the fireworks.

Oh.

How could Nathan look so ethereal in this moment? It is quite unfair. The bloom of another firework lights the sky and their faces, reflecting in Nathan's eyes, and Shoma feels something in his heart clench. This moment is perfect. This moment is theirs. Shoma is tired and unable to care about controlling himself anymore. To hell with whoever is watching! Shoma shifts the position of his hands between one whistling noise and the next, so he can hold Nathan's head better, gently cradling it between his hands, and presses a soft kiss to his lips.

Regardless of whatever happens in the future, Shoma knows he will always remember this moment as the moment he realized he was in too deep: very much in love with Nathan, now and forever.

♔

Nathan smiles a bit sheepishly when Shoma turns to look at him, noticing that Nathan has stopped watching the fireworks. He's about to shift his gaze back to the display, but then Shoma is shifting, holding him still by the grip over his ears, and leaning in. Shoma's lips are as dry as ever, a little rough, a little cool. Nathan rests both of his open hands on Shoma's chest, not pushing him away, just feeling him, feeling very centered in the moment. His pulse is still thrumming stronger than his usual, his leg is throbbing, and he's so, so tired, and none of that, not a bit of it, matters.

When they pull apart again, Nathan searches Shoma's eyes, feeling blessed by the gentle fondness he sees there.

♔

This truly is a blessed moment, Shoma feels. He wants to stay here, like this, forever. But a moment is just that. Shoma's heart is racing, and as another firework goes off, he feels a familiar pain. He ignores it in favor of taking the opportunity to watch Nathan, and have this time with him.

♔

Nathan wants to say something, some way to express his feelings in this moment, but he just doesn't know what. He can't find the words. All that escapes him is a soft whisper: an old term of endearment in High Praeludian. " 心肝宝贝..."

Shoma is perplexed for a moment before he realizes why he didn't understand what Nathan said. Shoma isn't familiar with Praeludian, not even the limited terms used for battle tactics. Common is already hard enough. But whatever Nathan had just said, it sounded lovely, almost melodic. Shoma has discovered a new desire in himself today; though languages are not his favorite topic of study by far, he knows now that he wants to learn to speak a little of Nathan's native tongue. Especially since Nathan would be stuck here in Tzigane, far from other Praeludian speakers.

"What did you say?" Shoma asks, loud enough so that maybe Nathan would hear him. He smiles softly. "It sounded beautiful."

Nathan hesitates. "Ah. It's... kind of antiquated. It doesn't really have a direct translation."

In the muffled quiet, Nathan has found himself focusing on the feeling of his own hands against Shoma's chest. Shoma's vaguely cold, as usual; already, Nathan is getting used to knowing that slightly cooler skin is just something Shoma always has. But Nathan has noticed something else, something that feels more fundamentally... wrong, somehow. Nathan's still feeling a bit jittery from the panic over the fireworks, sure. And maybe that's all it is, his own nerves throwing off his ability to observe.

Nathan pauses, breathing through his own jitters, because another firework has just flashed in the sky. He concentrates just in time to feel the explosion follow the light, and, sure enough, it seems that Shoma's pulse skips one, two, three beats, and then hammers back into rhythm, along with a hitch in his next inhale.

Nathan goes very still, suddenly entirely focused on his hands resting lightly over Shoma's heart and lungs. That was alarming. But... one instance doesn't necessarily mean anything is wrong. But, equally as true, and perhaps even more true according to Nathan's soldier's instinct... it pays to be thorough.

So as he watches Shoma's mouth to see the question asked of him -- and then as he blushes a bit because it's a little soon to be using such a strong phrase, even by Praeludium's standards, and now he has to  _ explain  _ that somehow -- Nathan slips his hands up to curl around the sides of Shoma's neck. Just to see.

To keep Shoma from getting suspicious while he waits for the next firework to go off in order to test his theory, Nathan answers Shoma's question, embarrassing as it is. "I guess it's sort of like... hn. Treasure of my heart."

♔

It's difficult to see with the flashes of light giving way to the darkness of night, but Shoma can definitely read the embarrassment on Nathan's face as he explains what that whispered phrase meant. In the back of his mind he can't help but notice that Nathan isn't looking in his eyes anymore. He's looking at his neck, where Nathan's hands have moved to rest quite firmly. It's almost as if... No. Surely, Nathan hasn't noticed. Surely it's shyness, as he translates such a surprisingly vulnerable phrase.

Nathan's gaze is very intense as he explains the closest translation possible and Shoma blushes in turn.

"O-oh."

Shoma pulls his hands, and himself away briefly from Nathan and covers his mouth with his hands. "I am... honored that you feel as though I am already treasured--!"

The next firework goes off Shoma rushes to replace his hands over Nathan's ears. Shoot. Flustered as he is, dark as he's blushing from such a powerful endearment, he still doesn't want Nathan to panic again!

How queer, Shoma thinks distantly, trying to distract himself, that a phrase can't be directly translated and must be approximated. Praeludian, he imagines, is a difficult language. But then again, there are some instances where Tzigane doesn't quite translate into Common cleanly either, so he can understand to some extent. He wonders, vaguely, if there is a book somewhere that offers direct translations between the two languages without Common in the middle. That could be useful.

Distantly, Shoma feels himself wince as a cluster of fireworks begins going off in quick succession. It must be the finale, a particularly impressive and large final display to end the evening. It is pretty, he thinks, looking up at the glow, but he doesn't feel like he can appreciate the beauty anymore. Because the concussions from the blasts are coming fast now, almost without rest between them, and it hurts. A lot.

Shoma steels himself. Can he endure it? Has Nathan seen? 

_No... Don't pass out here. Not now._

♔

Shoma might have had some idea of the reason for Nathan's concern and hesitation, for a moment maybe, and then... He pulls away, covering his mouth. It is a nearly unbearably cute reaction, and between that and the focus he's putting into Shoma's pulse, he doesn't even notice the beginning of what must be the end of the fireworks display, as several shells rise into the air together. The whistle of so many rockets would be positively alarming under any circumstance, but what alarms Nathan even more is the noticeable stutter of Shoma's pulse beneath his fingers. Shoma winces, just a bit, but that's the least of Nathan's worries. He's wincing, too. It is very loud, even in spite of Shoma's hands over his ears.

No, what is much worse is how thready Shoma's pulse seems suddenly. This is not a simple - if concerning - case of the heart skipping a few beats in the moment. While far from normal, that much is not necessarily a mark of ill health. But this is not that. This is... Much worse. Shoma's pulse feels sluggish and weak even as his breath catches in such a way to make it obvious that he's struggling to draw enough air into his lungs.

Nathan's mouth feels very dry, his stomach twisted up in knots. Suddenly Shoma's cold hands and dry lips and weary exhaustion and supposed clumsiness all tie together with his hitched breath and his weak pulse.

Nathan brings his arms around to cross behind Shoma's neck, pulling him in closer, till they're pressed tightly together, chest to chest. Shoma can look over Nathan's shoulder at the lights in the sky if he likes, but Nathan wants to hold him close. He breathes slowly, in and out, hoping Shoma's breath will mimic his on instinct or reflex.

And, as the last of the fireworks finally start to twinkle out of the sky, leaving only the natural lights of the stars flickering there coldly... Nathan wonders how long Crown Prince Uno has been ill.

♔

Vibration after vibration from the explosions shakes Shoma's weak heart and he finds breathing harder and and harder to accomplish as they go on. Then, the worst possible thing happens... He panics. Panics that Nathan will find out, that he will faint on his wedding night. What if the nobility found out? What if his father saw--? Itsuki would worry--

Nathan pulls Shoma in against his chest, and now Shoma is unable to cover Nathan's ears from the sound of the last barrage of fireworks launching into the sky. Shoma is nervous: he's been told that these kinds of finales sound like a warzone. But Nathan's grip on him is firm, holding him tight. Shoma is forced to listen to Nathan's breathing and his own beating heart. Nathan's heart, a strong heart... Is this what a normal heart beat sounds like? It patters against Nathan's ribs, paced steadily alongside deep breaths, and instinctively, Shoma finds himself mimicking each breath with his own.

The final rocket booms, its last explosion reverberating across the water and over the buildings in the distance. Distant cheers lift from citizens across the entire capitol, a collective sound of joy. Shoma closes his eyes, seeing afterimages of the display still behind his eyelids.

"Are you alright?" Shoma finally asks. He doesn't push back from Nathan's hold, though; instead, head on Nathan's shoulder, he listens to Nathan's heart for a bit longer. He likes the way it sounds.

Nathan is far too kind to him, Shoma fears. Furthermore, Shoma has never truly realized how starved for physical attention he has been until this point. How in need of someone to hold him, comfort him, while he is struggling. Itsuki helps when he can, and Yuzuru helps sometimes too. But not like this. Nothing like this.

Shoma is gripped with sudden worry. What if he would become too used to this before long, becoming unable to cope on his own should he be away from Nathan? No. As fast as the fear arrived, so does the solution, simple and certain in Shoma's mind. It's as reassuring as the sound of Nathan's heartbeat.

Shoma will simply keep Nathan at his side, forever. That will be fine, right?

♔

Good. That's good. Nathan can feel as Shoma starts to loosen up, just a little. He hasn't fully relaxed, by any means, but the shuddering nature of his breaths has evened out a bit to match Nathan's, which was the idea. He's been in enough battles, supported enough of his soldiers through fear and panic and grievous injuries. He's no doctor or healer, but he can hold Shoma and demonstrate a relaxing breathing pattern.

He slides his hand into Shoma's hair again, cupping the back of his head gently. Turns his head and presses his lips into Shoma's temple, taking a deep breath in. Letting a shaky breath of his own out.

"I'm fine," he says. He means it. The darkness spreads around them, as the echoes of cheers from throughout the city taper off into a near-silence. Soon, they can hear people in the darkness around them begin to stand up, shifting around. Maybe beginning to return to their homes.

"I'm fine," Nathan repeats. "Thank you. It was very beautiful." He smiles, pulling back a bit to meet Shoma's eyes.

"I am glad you think so." Shoma looks up, meeting Nathan's gaze trustingly.

_ Maybe it's just a cold.  _ Nathan swallows, pushing his fears down, keeping them out of his eyes.  _ Maybe Shoma merely has a little infection, exacerbated by stress and exhaustion. _

Nathan wants to believe this. Tries his best. And, trying to keep such anxious thoughts in the back of his mind, he gives Shoma a tired, cheerily conspiratorial squint. "Can we go to bed now?"

Shoma nods and motions to Nathan to get up first, offering his hand in support in case Nathan needs it. "Yes. Let's go to sleep." Hand in hand once more, Shoma leading and Nathan following, they retrace their path: back to the palace, through the long halls, and to their bed.

♔

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fireworks, capra said. for his birthday, she said.
> 
> and you trusted what capra said? tsk tsk. well, now i've shown my hand, and you know not to trust the authors' notes. so i won't be able to get anything past you again, right? you're gonna be ready for whatever's coming their way, right?
> 
> riiiiight.
> 
> well, at least these cuties have successfully completed their first day as a married couple!
> 
> yep. this has all been *just the first day*.
> 
> they are in for a RIDE, lemme tell you what.
> 
> so, next week, please join us as they get started on that while exploring more of the palace grounds, and meeting some new-yet-familiar faces.
> 
> this week there's no new Easter Eggs, sorry! ~~last week's is still hidden, if you're itching to hunt.~~
> 
> as always, we are capra, chupacabra, and v, and we thank you for reading.


	7. the princes' ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peace and quiet and horseback riding: the idyllic married life has reached our newlyweds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [capra peeks in the door hesitantly]
> 
> I can explain. 
> 
> But rather than detailing the personal life bullshit that delayed the editing of this... let's just get straight into it.
> 
> Thank you to our proofchecker & beta for this chapter, scribblingsquirrels.🙏
> 
> ♚

## ♔ Chapter Seven: The Princes' Ride ♔

Nathan has been Shoma's husband for more than a full week now. Not that he’d even believe it himself, if he hadn’t been at the wedding.  
  
He’d spent much of the time obediently at Shoma's side, little more than a shadow to those around them. In his mind, Nathan treated his time standing at Shoma's shoulder as if he would had he been named his Honor Guard back home. Every member of the Imperial House had a select number of Honor Guards, chosen from the populace based on their abilities instead of their level of nobility. In many cases, a well-suited Honor Guard would in fact end up becoming a consort, possibly even a spouse, to their charge. Nathan, as the youngest son, had only been entitled to a single Honor Guard, and he missed Camden dearly at times, though he had never felt romantically towards the younger man. 

They didn't seem to have that sort of thing here, though there were plenty of the black-clad servants around at any given time. If Shoma needed anything he merely needed to speak it, and someone that Nathan hadn't even noticed was there would return in moments with it, whatever it was.

If Nathan needed something, which didn't come up often because Shoma naturally included him in his requests for food or drink, he merely needed to take Shoma's arm gently and draw him into an alcove. There, he would be allowed to speak softly into Shoma's ear and Shoma would be able to make the request for him. 

When they were alone, they went back to being somewhat like equals. They took turns teaching each other some of their own languages, and Nathan pretended to be a lot more tired than he was so Shoma would sleep. Not that it was hard to convince him to do so, of course, but it was much easier for Nathan to feign exhaustion and beg for a few hours to sleep than to convince Shoma that he should be able to sleep for his own health.

Nathan had kept an eye on Shoma in that way too. When they slept, Nathan would sometimes lie with his head on Shoma's chest, listening to his heartbeat or the workings of his lungs. At some point, Nathan had requested a notebook and a pen and had begun keeping a journal. He didn’t confine his observation just to his experiences in Tzigane, but had also begun to keep a separate section of observations about Shoma's health. He wanted to make sure he had as much information as he could before he was ready to confront Shoma with his suspicions. 

Naturally, Nathan wrote all of his journaling in High Praeludian, to dissuade anyone from snooping in his private musings. He did not think for a moment that Shoma might invade his privacy to read it, but he couldn't extend the same trust to any of the number of servants who had access to Shoma's chambers for cleaning, not to mention Shoma's family. Respect was not the same thing as trust, and neither was synonymous with fondness. While Nathan would unquestioningly respect King Uno and his authority, and was already certain there would never be any fondness or warmth in their interactions, he had not yet determined whether he could entrust the king with the same level of free and candid thought that he comfortably shared with his son.

This day, Nathan woke naturally from a tense dream - not quite a nightmare, but still unsettling enough to leave him uneasy as he woke. He found Shoma beside him, predictably still asleep. Nathan didn’t move to get out of bed right away. Partly because his leg was sore from an excess of walking the day before, and partly because it was just nice to relax in the quiet, soothing away his dream with the comfort of Shoma’s presence.

As far as he was aware, they didn’t have any courtly business scheduled for the day, unless a letter had been delivered under the door in the night. Shoma had been hinting all week that he was going to take Nathan to the stables to meet some of the horses who had been left riderless after the war. Privately, Nathan was hoping that today might be the day they did that. 

♔ 

A new spouse being promptly pushed to the background wasn't entirely unheard of in Tzigane culture. The bloodline was the most important thing; spouses were secondary. The significance of a spouse was still, of course, held in some reverence, but it was the head of the family that was considered most important. And so, because Shoma wasn't king yet, the pressures of expectation on his shoulders pointed entirely toward his filial duty toward his father the regent. 

Until Shoma himself became regent, he was depressingly aware, Nathan would never be viewed by the Tzigane noble class with the respect he was owed as a royal by both birth and marriage. Instead, most had settled on treating him like some kind of honorary slave, and would likely continue to do so until they were forced to do otherwise. 

There was not much Shoma could do to compel that change now - not yet. His father’s opinion held far more weight with the nobility than his own, and his father’s clearly demonstrated view of Nathan not only permitted but encouraged the nobility’s disregard for him. When he became king, Shoma had promised himself, he would make sure all would acknowledge Nathan as his equal. That resolution marked the first time in a very long time that Shoma felt any reason to look forward to his own reign.

When they were alone, Shoma reveled in their conversations, enjoying Nathan's laugh, his intonations, the very language of his people. Shoma found the differing tones of High Praeludian, the ways that one word could mean different things with a simple shift of one’s voice, to be hard to wrap his head around, but he was sure his struggle was amusing to Nathan, and didn’t mind the good-natured teasing that accompanied their language lessons.

What worried Shoma was how often Nathan would express exhaustion. He didn't question it much, as it gave Shoma an excuse to nap and recover from whatever tasks he had to do that day. Shoma had seen the extent of scarring on Nathan's leg and definitely wanted Nathan to mend as comfortably as possible, but to be as exhausted as Shoma himself... It left Shoma with some concerns.

Shoma slept dreamlessly most nights, his sleep deep and heavy as his body recovered as best as it could. He slept so soundly that hardly anyone could wake him. Upon waking naturally on his own, Shoma had once or twice caught Nathan laying on his chest affectionately, and chalked it up as yet another of the oddities of Praeludium culture. That sort of closeness, and the casual nature of it, had taken some getting used to. Nathan was wonderfully attentive and loving, and Shoma sometimes feared he wasn’t returning enough care to Nathan simply because he just didn't know how.

For this day, however, Shoma had made a plan, a way to give back to Nathan somewhat more substantially, and maybe even reduce the constant causes of his exhaustion: a mount all his own.

Shoma stirred, finally, when his body decided it had rested long enough and drowsily rolled over to find and cling to Nathan. "おはよう...” He murmured his good morning, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

  
♔  


Shoma was so sweet when he was first waking up. If Nathan wasn't lying on top of him, which admittedly was more often than not, the first thing he would do even before opening his eyes all the way was to roll over, and reach out to hold on to Nathan. He slept in an oversized shirt, which made him almost unbearably adorable. For the first couple of nights, Nathan slept in his shirt as well, but it didn't take long for him to feel comfortable enough with Shoma to go shirtless, despite his scars, and sleep in only his underwear, which was how he'd slept at home. It let him share his body heat with Shoma better, too, so it worked out for the best in all ways.

This meant that it was not very long into their first week as a married couple that Shoma had seen the full extent of the damage and surgical incisions and scars covering Nathan from knee to hip, as well as the more sparse scars sprinkled across his torso. The furthest reaches of his hip’s wounds have started to close properly, leaving only fine white scars. Some of the deeper places, where they had cut down to his bone to fix it, were still healing infuriatingly slowly.  
  
Nathan was beginning to worry that he might always walk with a limp from now on, and he wasn't sure how he liked the idea of it in this new culture. Back home, it would be seen as a mark of respect, integral in the honor of a solider. At home, the damage he had taken and its lasting mark on him would symbolize the sacrifice made for the country. But here, he wasn't sure. Shoma had to represent and endure so much, and the idea of him being allowed to show any kind of flaw or imperfection to the constantly revolving circle of visibly vicious nobility was laughable at best. As an extension of Shoma, Nathan worried his limp might be a liability to Shoma, a weakness rather than a badge of honor.

♔

  
A shirtless Nathan was definitely a wonderful sight to see every morning. Still extremely fit despite the long rest he had surely endured after his surgery, Nathan wore his scars without self-consciousness. But it had taken Shoma himself a while to stop mentally cringing at the scarring: not in disgust, but in sympathy. He couldn't imagine the kind of pain that went with that. While Tzigane warriors were held in high esteem, Shoma wasn't sure that that same honor would be extended for his Praeludian soldier. Usually, Tzigane warriors were posthumously exalted to express the Crown’s gratitude for their deaths on the field. That wasn't quite the same as Nathan’s case. In the conventional Tzigane view, it might be worse that Nathan came back alive, but damaged, rather than dying on the field.

"早上好." Nathan replied, smiling as he reached out to push Shoma's hair off his forehead, leaning in to give him a quick good-morning kiss. "Did you sleep well?" 

Shoma nodded and sleepily returned the kiss with a soft contented hum. He lazily ran his hands through Nathan's curls, untangling the lighter snarls and enjoying its softness. He loved the way the waves and curls of his hair bounced whenever Nathan spoke.

A few long moments passed before Shoma remembered to ask, "Did you?" He’d spaced out briefly. Hopefully, Nathan didn't mind  
  
♔

Shoma was very sweet and soft in the mornings. He was sweet and soft most of the time when they were alone, to be honest, but Nathan cherished it all the same. 

Not that he didn't also appreciate seeing Shoma in his element as the Crown Prince. Being mostly ignored by the people who Shoma had to converse with left Nathan free to examine their interactions. He knew his observations would come in handy for when he would eventually be called to participate as well. Well, maybe. Shoma's father certainly didn't seem to like him, which mostly left Nathan wondering why he had even bothered with this arrangement in the first place. Itsuki was nice enough, but Nathan had a constant feeling of inadequacy whenever Itsuki looked at him, as though the younger Prince was waiting for him to screw up somehow. 

(As if he hadn't screwed up a lot already. Though, that was in the eyes of the other nobility around the place. Maybe Itsuki was waiting for Nathan to hurt Shoma somehow…? Well, he'd be waiting a long time for that, Nathan hoped.)

Shoma's hands began smoothing through his hair, loosening the curls that had been flattened in his sleep and starting to make him presentable. Nathan tipped his head toward the touch.

"I did." Nathan responded when Shoma finally came back from wherever it was he went when his eyes went a little distant. Each time he did that, his hands would keep moving though his mind was clearly leagues away. Nathan didn't mind it. Shoma had a lot on his mind. Nathan was happy to wait for him. 

"What's the plan for today? Shall we get up and make sure we didn't get any orders during the night?" 

Shoma nodded again absently and moved to sit up. His eyes trailed over Nathan's body, lingering, before remembered himself and yanked his gaze away. It wasn't that Shoma wasn't interested in Nathan sexually. Actually, the opposite. Nathan was very attractive and, according to Shoma’s daydreams, probably an excellent lover, but... Shoma was a virgin. He didn't know how to ask about that. His heart was also a factor, but one he was less concerned with. Nathan being comfortable with the idea of their intimacy was his priority, and the topic just...hadn’t come up. How does one organically start that conversation? _“We’re married, so I don’t know how to ask you about how you want to be intimate with me without making you feel compelled by my rank and our marriage. Also, I have no idea what I’m doing.”_ Yeah, right.  
  
Shoma shook his head and tried not to think too much more about it for fear of embarrassing himself this early in the day.

He got up and glanced in the direction of the door. No orders. Thank goodness, though he was sure Itsuki had something to do with that. Shoma had confided in his brother that he wanted to take Nathan horseback riding. 

"Today, we are going to the stables. You can meet my horse, Winta, and see if any of the horses are a good fit for you." Shoma still felt tired, but he couldn't help but be excited. He had very much looked forward to this, so waking up was not a problem once he remembered the excitement he had planned for the day. He withdrew a blue button-down shirt and white slacks from his set of drawers. It was a simple, but comfortable outfit. The only note of his nobility in this outfit was the gold pendant of two squares, one inside the other to one side, with embedded blue along two edges. It would be better this way, when they went out of the palace grounds, should common folk notice them. He hated making a scene.  
  
♔

Nathan usually let Shoma get out of bed first. He didn't have any particular ulterior motives about this, he just liked to watch the way he moved. And it took Shoma longer to get ready to leave, by virtue of having to look so much more presentable. Nathan merely had to shove his curls out of his eyes and put on whatever black outfit was most acceptable for their obligations for the day. He had several, now. Some of them even had white and grey included. The only hint of color he wore was the tiny blue stone set into the Uno crest that hung from his collar. He had yet to be told to take it off when he was around Shoma's family or other nobility, so he kept wearing it. His ceremonial coat was neatly folded at the very bottom of the drawer Shoma had assigned him, beneath his piles of black. Sometimes, when sorting through looking for the outfit he'd like to wear, he caught a glimpse of the red and gold, and wondered if he'd ever be allowed to wear it again. 

And then he would always find himself wondering if he really cared that much. They were just clothes. And he certainly didn't miss the battlefield. 

But he did miss riding. He hadn't actually been on a horse since his injury, but he was sure he'd be fine if he tried again. He _wanted_ to be fine. 

Shoma's outfit was very simple, so Nathan decided to wear something to match. Unadorned black slacks and a plain black shirt that closed down the front would serve as appropriate dress for the day. The shirt was cut in the same style as the shirt Shoma had chosen, but Nathan’s was tailored a bit more tightly, revealing more of his physique. Other than the color, the way all of Nathan's clothes clung to his body was certainly a change from how he'd chosen to dress when out of uniform back home, but he figured that too was a part of the role he played now. 

"Winta." Nathan repeated the name of Shoma's own mount and smiled. "I look forward to it." Taking a moment to stretch his leg, he crossed the room, and looped an arm through Shoma's, pulling him in to press a kiss to his temple. "Lead the way,  郎君." 

Shoma smiled at Nathan's kiss on his temple, feeling his cheeks warm, and slid his hand down Nathan's arm to take his hand and kiss his knuckles affectionately. He enjoyed whenever Nathan used his native tongue around him. Was that strange? It invoked in Shoma a sense that Nathan felt more comfortable around him, though sometimes he wished he knew the language well enough to reciprocate the sentiment. 

The stables were within a reasonable walking distance of the palace’s main gate. They featured an open field available for the horses to enjoy. Each member of the royal family had their own horse to ride. There was also a set of labor horses for carriage outings and work around the grounds, and many empty stalls which could be used in special circumstances - as they were today. Per Shoma's request, the stables had guests: horses that had seen battle and lost their masters were given space to stay and would be seen by Nathan today. Shoma felt for the horses, and wondered if keeping some of the ones that had no home, even if they weren’t picked by Nathan, would be alright.  
  
Thankfully the stables weren't far from the palace building proper, and after a good night's rest, Nathan's leg was feeling just fine, so he was able to walk hand in hand beside Shoma with scarcely a limp.

Upon their arrival, they were greeted by a man much taller than Shoma. "Ouji-sama! My Prince!" The man waved enthusiastically and ditched the bucket he had been carrying to trot up and meet them. Once he was closer, he bowed before Shoma, and dipped his head in respect in Nathan's direction too, his eyes friendly. This acknowledgment was both an enjoyable change of pace and mildly surprising. For the most part, if people weren't giving Nathan outright dirty looks they'd been ignoring him entirely. Nathan returned the respectful nod with a little bow of his own.  
  
Shoma introduced him. "This is Alex Shibutani. A skilled horseman and our lead caretaker." While typically servants handled the worst of horse care, someone had to be in charge. This was left in the care of the Shibutani family. In the event that the palace was stormed by enemy troops, they also would handle the protection and evacuation of the royal family, so they were held in high esteem. Shoma explained this briefly, hoping to convey to Nathan the skill with which the Shibutani family fulfilled their responsibilities on behalf of Shoma’s own family, and by doing so, to also convey his appreciation to Alex of his efforts.

"So this is the horseless husband, eh? We'll fix that right away. It's nice to meet you, Nathan-san." With very little reserve, he held out his hand to Nathan for him to shake.

Nathan laughed as Alex called him the horseless husband. But also, with a little tilt of his head, he gave Alex a questioning smile and only grew more curious when Alex offered him his hand. 

Glancing around to make sure that the three of them were alone, Nathan took Alex's hand and gave it a firm shake. "A pleasure. If you don't mind me saying, your Common is very good, and you speak it with an accent that is familiar to me. Have you spent time in my home country?"

Alex positively beamed at Nathan. "Yes! I spent many years there thanks to the war effort. I almost considered staying!" He laughed and let go of Nathan's hand. "But, duty called and I missed my family." 

"I see,” Nathan said. “Well, I'm glad to see that the war did not cause you too much suffering." 

Alex clapped Nathan on the shoulder and steered him into the stables. Shoma simply followed, choosing to be the shadow in this situation.

Nathan had been trying not to think about how many of Alex's charges he had had a hand in killing-- either the horses or their riders, or both. It seemed likely there was a horse in the stable with them whose former master Nathan had killed. The more he thought about it, the more self-conscious he became. Anxious, Nathan almost turned to Shoma for some kind of... Reassurance, maybe, or something like it. But Nathan swallowed the urge, not wanting to burden Shoma further.

Alex’s cheerful voice brought Nathan’s thoughts back to the present. "Now then, 朋友...! Let's get you situated.”

That friendly word, an informal address in High Praeludian, raises Nathan's eyebrows. Tzigane formality was much stricter than that of his home in many ways, but this was a step beyond that dramatic difference. To be casually called that by someone who was not Praeludian nobility... It felt very strange indeed. Not bad, though.

There were no other Praeludian nobles present who might call Alex to task for disrespect. Nathan himself was hardly sure he had any right to consider himself in any way more highly ranked or positioned than Alex. Honestly, as stable master here, Alex probably deserved more respect from the general populace than Nathan. Nathan did his best to ignore it and move on.

As Alex led him into the stables, it became obvious to Nathan that the stables were much fuller than they usually were. He wondered how many of these horses belonged to the royal family and how many had been chargers from the military, left without their riders.

“I've been told not only you are a prince, but you were also a dragoon? I would have loved to have seen that,” Alex commented.

  
"Probably for the best that you have not." Nathan says, trying for a slightly joking tone and aware that it is probably too soon to be so flippant. "Honestly, my military rank earned me much more respect than my noble standing." 

Shoma gave Nathan a sympathetic smile that read something like an apology, but he couldn't hide the laughter in his eyes. As the prince, he could have probably demanded that Alex leave Nathan alone, but he felt no need to. Shoma saw regularly how uncomfortable Nathan was with staying in silence. Being around someone less, well, _classically_ Tzigane might be good for Nathan's confidence. It was worth the chance. Besides, Nathan and Alex had more in common, despite being on opposite sides of the war. Perhaps they could swap stories? Soldiers did that, right?

Behind Shoma, Alex laughed again. "True. Had we met before, neither one of us might have made it back." All they could do was joke about the horrors of war. How else were returning veterans supposed to cope?

"That's true." Nathan admits and he knows it could easily have gone either way. Shoma was never a soldier, though from what Nathan's gathered, he had a lot to do with the Tzigane strategy throughout the campaign. But Alex had seen combat on the front lines, as had Nathan. They both know how different it is, and they both know how lucky they were to be alive. So Nathan offers Alex a very respectful bow. "I am glad you were able to return home." He means it, too.

Alex watches Nathan move to stand in the center of the stables, turning to look at the horses around them. Some of them were clearly interested in the newcomers, and he tried to read their demeanors to figure out which one belongs to Shoma. Once he had his guess-- "Where is Winta?"

Alex frowns at Nathan, confused for a moment. "Winta? Oh! _Winter_ , Prince Shoma’s horse. She's over there," He gestured ahead of them. A light grey muzzle was already sticking out over the edge of the stall door.

Shoma moved past them quietly to greet his horse, a softness in his eyes for her. She popped her head out further to nuzzle at Shoma, trying to get at his hands for a potential treats, ears curious. She was mostly grey, bordering on white, with hair and mane looking almost frail, like she wouldn't be able to withstand a winter breeze. Freckled darker grey spots covered her shoulders and withers, almost marking out it's own breastplate.

"She's a Tersk. Bred for our future king. Very sweet, very durable, but she's figured out more than once where her treats are located." Alex went on to say, standing a bit to the side so Nathan could step by him and greet her if he wanted, or any of the other horses around them.

He leads them further into the stable, and Nathan laughs, reaching out to grab Shoma's hand for a little squeeze. "Winter, okay. That makes sense." 

The horse in question is already leaning most of her head over the stall door, dark eyes soft and intelligent. Some people, people who didn't spend time around horses, thought of them as dumb beasts of burden. Nathan knew much better. Winter was intent on the visitors and was probably expecting some kind of treat. He felt at his own pockets reflexively, but of course he has nothing to offer her. He hopes Shoma or Alex do, because she's obviously a very sweet animal.

He approaches the stall to stand beside Shoma, pointedly telegraphing his movement as he reaches past her eyes to rub at her velvety ear. 

"She's beautiful," he says to Shoma. 

As Nathan came closer, Winter began snuffling heavily in his direction, and Shoma slipped a couple sugar cubes he had stashed in his pockets into Nathan's hand. Shoma ought to be more sparing with the treats, because he did spoil Winter a little bit too much, but he just wanted to show her that he cared.  
  
"She knows she's the favorite, too," says a voice from further down the stables, and Nathan turns to see a girl about Shoma's height approaching, leading a sprightly prancing blue roan. "Not for lack of trying by her sister here." She stops, offering a deep bow to Shoma and a respectful nod of the head to Nathan. "My name is Maia. I'm Alex's sister, and I ran the stables for him while he was away. And this," She rubbed the roan's neck and stroked its long dark mane, "Is Summer. She and Winter have the same sire, though Summer's younger. I took the liberty of bringing her out, because I think you two might get along." Maia's eyes twinkled mischievously at her brother, who sighed in mock exasperation.

Shoma nodded respectfully back to Maia, accepting the bow and her presence. But to Summer, Shoma didn’t offer a greeting quite yet; while he did want to say hello, he wanted Nathan to go to her first.

 

♔

 

While the others speak, Nathan has been happily feeding the sugar cubes Shoma gave him to Winter, bit by bit. She snuffles the cubes right out of his fingers, crunches them with a familiar flick of her ears. She is absolutely spoiled rotten, obviously, but then, so had been Nemesis, in her own way.

He misses his mount then, suddenly and fiercely. There are no horses like her in these stables- Tzigane's breeds are much smaller than the horses that thrive in the wider plains of Praeludium. There aren't even any that are close to her color here. In fact, he doesn't see a single horse with a black coat in these stables. Furthermore, he couldn't remember any Tzigane cavalry riding black horses, either. He wonders for a moment if maybe they consider the color to be bad luck in some way. 

Summer has a beautifully black mane, though, and as soon as she realizes that Nathan has treats, she's leaning over his shoulder too, sniffing at his ear.  
  
Alex rubs his shoulder, which seems to have an old ache in it. "Summer lost her rider on her first ride into battle," he explains, as Nathan steps forward to greet the beautiful blue roan. "Got so spooked that no one else could take her back out, so she came home. I can't blame her. The pressure must have been too much to handle." Alex pets her muzzle and, giving Maia a skeptical smile, he returns his attention to Nathan and Shoma.

"I see. I can understand that. She's been here since, then?" Nathan turns around and offers one of the cubes of sugar to her. She takes it from his palm daintily, and he turns his hand over to rub gently against the velvety spot between her nostrils. Alex leaves to retrieve saddles for them, and Nathan leans in to press his forehead to Summer's nose. 

"Since Maia has decided to help you pick, I’ll get the tack and saddles ready." He sort of slouch-bows at them and, with Shoma's blessing, opens the stall to lead Winter out to be readied for riding. Shoma glances at Nathan, wondering if he should stay or give Nathan a moment alone to bond with the horse of his choosing.

"What do you think, 美麗? Will you let me ride you, today?" 

She gives a soft whicker that sounds very agreeable to Nathan and he smiles over at Maia. She looks very pleased with herself. "I will exercise her today, if she'll have me," he says, turning to greet Alex again as he approaches, holding his arms out to accept one of the saddles and blankets the taller man was carrying. He busies himself with placing the blanket over Summer's back, settling the saddle across her. It wasn't quite like the war saddle he had used. It lacked the horn to which he would lash his reins if he needed to draw his sword or bow, and also lacked the extra straps from which to hang weapons. 

Still, a saddle is a saddle, and he wasn't about to ride a skittish mare for the first time bareback. So he buckles it on, and Summer accepts Maia's gentle hands in helping to place her bit.  
  
♔  


Shoma can't help but watch Nathan interact with the horses, delicate and calmly confident. He wonders what Nemesis was like. Maybe he should take Nathan to a shrine to offer a prayer for her? But then, Shoma didn't want to force that impulse onto Nathan either. Shoma would do it later, on his own, to thank her for bringing Nathan here.

While Shoma is able to help Alex prepare Winter for riding, Alex is far more adept at it than he. Shoma finds his hands faltering and lets Alex do most of the work. Something about his grip on things doesn't feel right today. Maybe it's just his imagination, but he allows Alex to set up in his stead, while Shoma pets Winter's neck lovingly, cooing softly to her in Tzigane about how beautiful she is and how they will have fun today.

When it comes time to mount her, Shoma discovers that his weak grip is hindering him here too, something that he notes mentally, but keeps to himself. Alex sidles up behind Shoma and, with express permission to help, picks up Shoma as though he were a lightweight doll and places him on Winter's back. Winter snorts and adjusts her footing and Shoma would swear on his life that it's a horse laugh. He runs his hands through her mane and softly tells her to shut up. He glances around, hoping no one else has noticed the otherwise embarrassing scenario. What was the word, in common tongue, for the opposite of cool? That's what this was.

Nathan is about ready to mount Summer, but he turns to make sure they're ready to ride out of the stables first, not wanting to make her stand still for too long. If she's as skittish as they say, mounting her and then staying inside would just cause her more distress than was necessary. He wants to be able to exit as soon as he has her reins in hand.

Shoma, however, is only just now being lifted bodily around the waist by Alex, and Nathan can't help the little smile that twists his lips, though he's quick to cover it with his hand and turn his face toward Summer's flank to hide it. Shoma isn’t tiny, and Winter isn’t unreasonably tall either. Shoma’s probably not feeling well, and Nathan makes a mental note to add that to his notebook when they're done riding. But regardless of any of that, there was something about Alex, who was tall and broad and never not smiling, lifting the solemn and serious Crown Prince into his saddle... It was just _sweet_. Nathan wondered how often this had happened, but when he saw the look on Shoma's face as he swung himself carefully up into Summer's saddle, he also decided never to mention it, tempted as he was. 

"Shall we?" he asks, and almost without waiting for an answer, he nudges Summer's sides with his knees, holding her reins loose and giving her her head. She wants out of the stable as much as Nathan wants her to be. 

Shoma gives Winter a gentle nudge once he is settled, feeling it’s been much too long since he has properly gone riding with her. Hopefully today will go off without a hitch and they’ll ride together more often in the near future. Now that there is no war, there is less for Shoma to do regularly around the palace. He no longer has to spend his nights poring over terrain maps and battle plans, figuring out the best way to not lose more men. That time can now be spent in leisure and he’s endlessly grateful for it.

Summer’s gait isn't the steady and regular gate of a charger trained and battle-tested, but Nathan is a skilled rider, comfortable enough to adjust his seat to match her tread. He turns his head, and smiles at Shoma.  
  
Shoma and Winter catch up to Nathan and Summer, and Shoma allows Winter to match her sister's gait so they can ride side by side. The horses seem comfortable with each other, which makes sense to Nathan. If Summer has been here at the palace, then Winter undoubtedly usually was as well. They were probably exercised together often, when Shoma wasn't actively riding Winter. They were familiar with each other, comfortable. And, Nathan had to admit, he was very honored that the skittish horse trusted him enough not to buck or shy at all, even as he took a firmer hand to her reins and started to guide her into a slightly quicker cantering gait.  
  
"Thank you for this," Nathan tells Shoma, openly earnest.  
  
"You are welcome," Shoma answers easily, with a little bit of pride - pride that he cannot seem to hide no matter how much he’s trying. He's proud of his plan for the day, and glad that it's going so well thus far. "I thought we could tour the grounds today, and show you the far edges."

"I would like that. Since getting here, I've seen very little of the grounds. It seems we're almost always wandering around inside." He laughs. "The palace is larger inside than it appears." 

Shoma chuckles and nods. "When I was younger, I would let myself get lost in the halls. The servants always knew where I was, of course..."  He isn't bitter; that is their task. Finding some peace, though, had been difficult while he was growing up. Perhaps today Shoma would show Nathan his own particular corner of the grounds: a place that, as far as he knew, was his alone, where he was allowed true solitude.  
  
Nathan nods agreement. "I can imagine that would be very easy. It seems like every time I turn around, there's another passageway I never noticed. I guess that's how the servants get around so well, though." 

The keep back home was large, of course, but the hallways were spacious and laid out in a defined pattern. Probably so too are the halls of the Uno palace, but it’s not a pattern Nathan has yet discerned. When he considers it that way, the pattern that he has known all of his life would probably feel as much like a maze to Shoma as the Uno palace seems to him. 

"How are you faring?" Shoma doesn't explicitly state that he's worried about Nathan's hip, but neither does he really hide that it is on his mind. Now that Nathan isn’t the one walking, Shoma thinks they can probably go for some time before having to take a break.

Shoma asks after him in bland terms, and Nathan can tell he means how his leg is feeling. He winds Summer's reins around his right hand, and drops his left to rub thoughtfully at his thigh. 

"I'm feeling well so far. It is early in the day, of course. But Summer rides smoothly so far, and doesn't seem bothered by how I lean more to that side."  
  
Shoma nods again, finding that information comforting. "She must like you."  
  
"I'm glad for that." Nathan says. "While I'm sure there are a great many good horses in need of capable riders, I must admit she has caught my fancy already. Maia chose well." 

  
He grins, shifts his seat, and takes the reins in both hands again. "Shall we let them have a bit of a gallop?" 

Shoma readjusts his grip on his reigns and gestures ahead. "When the path splits, head left. When you get to the stone bridges, slow down. Let's race." Shoma says and with a smirk, he gives Winter a firm kick, setting the horse off at full gallop with that very little warning to Nathan.

Winter seems to anticipate this, and sets off quickly, almost as though she knows where Shoma wishes to go. It is always so exhilarating to ride at full speed, feeling the fresh air and seeing the scenery pass underneath them. It makes his heart beat quickly with fresh adrenaline.

As Shoma and Winter sprint ahead, Nathan laughs, partly because Shoma is so blatantly cheating, and partly because Shoma didn't _need_ to cheat. Nathan was a talented rider, but his experience was all in battle and long marches where endurance was key. Racing was not something he particularly cared about.

Summer, on the other hand, had other ideas, and clearly wanted to run to keep up with her sister. So, with no intention of winning this race, Nathan gives Summer her head again, adding in the occasional gentle nudge to increase her speed when it felt like she could use the reassurance from him. 

It felt so good to be riding so freely. Nathan didn't like to admit it, but he had been feeling a bit stifled by his role in the palace so far.

The scenery passes them rapidly by, and Shoma feels his grip on the reins going slack. Winter interprets this as Shoma giving her free range and gallops along happily. But as the stone slab bridges come into view, Shoma begins to realize... Something is wrong. He feels like no matter how deeply he breathes, he can't get enough air. And there is a light, tight feeling growing up from his chest toward his head that makes him dizzy.

He had been optimistic this morning, since he hasn’t had a bad day in a while. He doesn’t know what the differences between them were, what would dictate a good day or a bad one, and he’s had to rely on his gut instinct alone. Disregarding moon cycles, weather, or the will of the gods, no day was the same, and his body’s weakness seemed to follow no discernable pattern at all.  
  
But he had still thought, maybe, that he had gotten better somehow. A lack of stress had probably helped him go longer between attacks. But clearly, it didn't change his condition.

Winter slows down to a slow canter, feeling something is amiss with her rider, her ears flicking nervously. This wouldn't be the first time that Shoma had an attack while riding her, so her patience is already better than most horses would be, but it’s been a while, and she’s growing frightened. She edges off the road before they reach the bridge. Shoma feels his body swaying, rocked by Winter’s movement and made worse by his fleeing equilibrium, and closes his eyes against the dizziness, hoping it'll pass like it has before.

He does not feel his body hit the ground.

♚

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our usual notes and disclaimers:
> 
> ♔this is fiction, based on selections of personality traits and tropes culled from the publically available personas of real people who are definitely not actually as depicted here.
> 
> ♔Tzigane is loosely based on, among other island nations, Japan! V is using some *very* simplified Japanese to represent Shoma's native tongue when he and other Tzigane citizens speak it. if you see any awful errors of meaning (not counting an overuse of hiragana), please let us know!
> 
> ♔Praeludium is based on a synthesis of various real world nation-states and climates, and leans heavily on cultural elements drawn from both the North American Native West and mainland China. their native tongue has two forms, High and Low, and when High is spoken in this story, it is loosely represented with the use of the written Chinese language, as a deferential nod to Nathan's IRL heritage. however, as we don't speak Chinese ourselves - if you see any awful errors of meaning, please let us know!
> 
> ♔all villains and antagonists in this story are our OCs!! and are *not* meant to represent nor mimic, in part or in whole, the real life relations, friends, or identities of any skaters, or any people related to skaters!
> 
>  
> 
> We will see you in 2 weeks for chapter 8.
> 
> Until then, we are running_with_luck, chupacabra, and capra, and we are so very grateful to you for reading, and for continuing this adventure with us. 
> 
> 💕


	8. the wounded princes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shoma did not feel his body hit the ground. 
> 
> He hits the ground a foot in front of Nathan, and Nathan lets his momentum carry him forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi all! 
> 
> **♚chapter content warnings♚**  
>  blood, physical abuse. See end notes for full content warnings.
> 
> alright, as usual, here's a few reminders before we get into it!
> 
> ♔this is fiction, based on selections of personality traits and tropes culled from the publicly available personas of real people who are definitely not having an adorable reunion at The Ice practice today ~~and are not instagramming any of it how dare they i want to see my FLUFF.~~
> 
> ♔Tzigane is loosely based on, among other island nations, Japan! V is using some *very* simplified Japanese to represent Shoma's native tongue when he and other Tzigane citizens speak it. if you see any awful errors of meaning (not counting an overuse of hiragana), please let us know!
> 
> ♔Praeludium is based on a synthesis of various real world nation-states and climates, and leans heavily on cultural elements drawn from both the North American Native West and mainland China. their native tongue has two forms, High and Low, and when High is spoken in this story, it is loosely represented with the use of the written Chinese language, as a deferential nod to Nathan's IRL heritage. however, as we don't speak Chinese ourselves - if you see any awful errors of meaning, please let us know!
> 
> ♔all villains and antagonists in this story are our OCs!! and are *not* meant to represent nor mimic, in part or in whole, the real life relations, friends, or identities of any skaters, or any people related to skaters!
> 
> ♔ All dialogue in italics and brackets is being spoken in the character's native tongue, not the Common tongue, and is presented in English for readers' clarity!
> 
> ♔ As always, a big thank you to our beta for this chapter, scribblingsquirrels, whose enthusiasm and support is deeply appreciated.
> 
> alright, let's get back to it!

♚

 _  
_ _Shoma feels his body swaying, rocked by Winter’s movement and made worse by his fleeing equilibrium, and closes his eyes against the dizziness, hoping it'll pass like it has before._

_He does not feel his body hit the ground._

♚

 

## ♔ Chapter Eight: The Wounded Princes ♔

 

They haven't yet reached the point that Shoma had chosen as the end of the race, the stone bridges past the fork in the path, when Winter begins to slow down. In response, Nathan catches Summer's reins up in a tight grip to bring her down to a cautious canter. They catch up to Winter quickly as she veers off the path, and that's the last thought Nathan has before he's reflexively letting Summer's reins fall, shifting his weight to leap off of her. But he's not fast enough; he started too far away and in trying to temper the sudden surge of fear he felt when Shoma swayed in his saddle with his concern about causing Summer to hurt herself by dismounting too hastily, Nathan loses precious seconds, and thus his opportunity.

Shoma hits the ground a foot in front of Nathan, and Nathan lets his momentum carry him forward. He skids to his knees, gathering Shoma up and into his lap, ignoring the scream of pain from his hip. He's probably reopened one of the deeper incisions that he had only recently pulled the stitches from, but he doesn't care right now. Shoma's face is pale, his lips are parted-- but, thank the skies and the seas, he's still breathing. 

Nathan pushes Shoma's hair out of his eyes and leans over him, pressing his lips to Shoma's forehead and his fingers to the pulse point just under Shoma's jaw. It doesn't feel like it had the night of the fireworks. It's thundering, beating hard but not fast: a small comfort.

"Shoma...  _ Shoma! _ " Nathan looks up, looks around to see if there's anyone who can help them, any people on the road, farmers in the field, anything. But the land is empty as far as he can see. The horses are standing idly by, ears pointed forward in concern. Other than them, there’s no one near, no one even distantly in view, and frustration coils in Nathan’s chest. He had grown so used to there being servants always hovering around.

In his fear and concern, he gives up on Common entirely and starts whispering intently in High Praeludian. "郎君. 我的王子. 醒來."  _ My prince. Wake up. _

Several long seconds pass in chilling stillness before Shoma's eyes finally flutter open, and Nathan lets out a shaky breath of relief. It's not perfect of course, but as long as Shoma is awake, it's possible for him to feel better, to be able to get up again. Which is good, because a large part of Nathan's fear was that he might not be able to lift Shoma, not even to get him up onto Winter's or Summer's back so they could return to the palace. 

For now, they can just sit in the grass until Shoma feels a little more awake.  
  
For a few moments, Shoma doesn't know where he is. He's on the ground? But he was just on his horse, racing with Nathan. How did he get here? His arm and side hurts a lot and Nathan is there, holding him close and clearly worried. Shoma didn't like that look on Nathan's face at all... 

"Nasan...? 何がー" He pieces together what happened and he closes his eyes again for a moment, pained and embarrassed. The conclusion was all too obvious. His heart had given out on him and he had fainted. His head is pounding loudly and he can feel his pulse throughout his body. Curse this stupid heart of his. It couldn't have had one more good day?

Shoma makes an effort to sit up, being very careful not to move too quickly for fear of fainting again in front of Nathan. "Did... I fall?" he asks, his Common sounding shaky as he tries to think. 

Nathan, a bit panicked, stumbles through a handful of syllables in both Common and Praeludian, before his scattered mind latches onto something in Tzigane that he had picked up at some point. "やめる."  _ Stop. _

He pushes his hand into Shoma's hair again, cradling him gently across his knees. "Just take a few deep breaths." He says, careful to keep his words slow, so they're easier for Shoma to understand. For the first time he is truly frustrated that he hasn't learned more of the Tzigane language yet. "It's alright." He reaches down, takes up one of Shoma's hands in his own. "Can you feel your fingers? Your toes?" 

The sudden Tzigane, while not entirely accurate, got Nathan's point across, and Shoma stops trying to get up. He lets his head fall back into the curve of Nathan's arm, allowing himself to be cradled. Nathan's panic causes his curls to quiver just so, and Shoma is momentarily distracted by them. Nathan looks so scared.

Shoma breathes, as instructed. The initial feeling of not being able to draw breath has passed, but he still feels a bit dizzy. Nathan is right to have him not stand, but Shoma still feels like he should. He's making a scene. He's in public, he's supposed to be in good health. A crown prince, a symbol. He was taught that staying down, collapsed like this, is a bad thing.

He flexes his toes in his shoes, double checking, and curls his fingers around Nathan's hand. He nods and sighs just a bit. "I am sorry." He can't help the frustration on his face, too tired right now to be stoic. "悔しい... I had been doing so well..." He took a deep, shaking breath in. He would not cry. He cannot afford to cry.

Nathan is quiet for a moment, letting Shoma check himself. He keeps pushing his hand through Shoma's hair, smoothing it gently, demonstrating some of his slow and steady breaths, like he did during the fireworks display.

Shoma's hand tightens around Nathan's, which is a good sign, and Nathan gives his arm a little comforting shake. "You're fine." He says softly, though he knows it's probably not true, physically or emotionally. He wants to be reassuring and he's not sure how else to do that. 

"Please don't be sorry," Nathan adds, after a moment of trying to process Shoma's apology. As if he would ever choose to have this illness, or this moment of weakness.

They sit in quiet for a bit, and then, as Shoma's breaths finally start to feel and sound normal, Nathan lets out a shaky sigh, looking up at the horses again. They're still watching them. They're good beasts, so attentive to their prince.

"You're very ill, aren't you?"

Shoma closes his eyes again for a moment, giving his pulsing headache time to fade. Nathan's hands are so gentle through his hair, coaxing away the pounding tension that squeezes Shoma’s brain and rattles his nerves. It’s quite soothing to have Nathan petting his hair like this, cradling him in his lap with focused adoration and care. If only it was under better circumstances.

"ええ..."  _ Yes.  _ Shoma breathes his answer to Nathan. He keeps his eyes closed for a beat before he opens them and looks at the sky. He isn't sure he can meet Nathan's eyes if he looks at him. "For as long as I can remember, my heart has been weak. No doctor in this country can fix it." He hates admitting it out loud, but Nathan has figured it out by now. It was hard not to. He had fainted and fallen off a horse, of course it was obvious something wasn't right. Shoma’s gaze follows a passing cloud far above them, and he uses it to distract himself as he speaks.

"My family keeps it a secret. No one is supposed to know. If the enemy had known, if the troops had known..." He doesn't explain it further than that. Nathan, the soldier from war, would understand why politically they couldn't allow anyone to know about their crown prince's condition. "Some days are better. I thought I would be okay."

Shoma looks right past him, but that's fine. Nathan doesn't think it's because Shoma's having trouble focusing, but because he's self-conscious about the fainting spell. About his illness. Nathan can't blame him, and can't say he's surprised either. Of course they would keep it a secret. It would be far too easy to exploit. They had been at war; there was no doubt that someone would have used this knowledge to their benefit and Shoma’s detriment. 

Nathan sends up a silent prayer of gratitude that it hadn't come to that. He knows he's grown far too attached to Shoma in such a short amount of time, but it wouldn't have been so if Shoma weren't so worth it. 

"I don't blame you." He says softly. He's still speaking slowly, careful to use his words in such a way that Shoma can follow what he's saying without having to focus too hard. "You should know that I have suspected that you were ill from our first night together. I should have asked you." 

Shoma brings his attention back to Nathan and sort of smiles. "I thought so. You are very observant." He too remembers the fireworks and how Nathan helped him through the worst of it. Only an idiot would not have figured it out.

Nathan shakes his head. "I didn't want to assume anything. You might have just had a cold. But I have been... Keeping an eye on you, since. Hoping I could figure out how to help you, without having to ask." 

Shoma sighs. "I would have lied if you had asked. I lie to everyone." Even to himself, it seems. Shoma likes to pretend he is who he's supposed to be; healthy, stoic, proud, firm. He is often none of these things, but has to be for his country.

"Do you... regret this? Now that you know." Shoma could understand the stress of having an ill spouse, a lying one at that, would make things much less enjoyable. Nathan had been so honest with him about his scars and his experiences, that Shoma would understand if Nathan wanted to distance himself.

But Nathan’s not bothered. Of course Shoma would have lied if Nathan had asked him. In this culture, in his position, of course he would. Nathan briefly wonders how long Shoma would have kept this secret from him, if he hadn't fallen today. Well, it's not worth thinking about. It's out now. There's no changing the secrets they've kept from each other. Now they simply need to figure out how to move forward... Together. 

"Shoma." Nathan lets out a little laugh, leaning over him to press a kiss to his forehead. Partly out of fondness, partly to check his temperature without having to release his hand. " 郎君. Considering even that I had no choice in the matter... No, I do not regret it. I only wish there were some way I could help. Please, tell me what I can do?"

Shoma closes his eyes as Nathan kisses his forehead. He loves Nathan's smile, and, it was worth noting that Nathan didn't have that 'look'. The one Itsuki sometimes had, the one that anyone who knew about his condition:  _ pity _ . Nathan didn't seem to pity him. He just wanted to help. These were two very different sentiments.

Shoma feels somewhat relieved, hearing Nathan say that. Yes, Nathan didn't have a choice whether to remain in this marriage, but with this secret revealed their chemistry could have changed dramatically. Nathan could have backed away from him, only posed with him when necessary.

"You cannot control my heart, Nathan," he says, and lifts his other hand to let it rest on Nathan's cheek. "I will... tell you when I am not feeling well. Together, maybe, I can avoid fainting again. For now, that's the only thing I can think of." He lifts himself up to kiss Nathan's cheek as well as move to sit up a bit.

"No," Nathan agrees, but at the same time he's very concerned. Heart surgery is dangerous, of course, but it isn't something that is unheard of, in Praeludium. He finds his hand falling from Shoma's hair to his chest. He spreads his fingers and frowns down. Not at Shoma. "No, I cannot."    
  
Nathan makes a mental note to add more to his journal. Now that he knows, he can start focusing on whether there's anything he can do to fix it. Maybe he'll write a letter to his doctor back home. They aren't technically at war anymore, and he can write it in such a way as to be curious about the possibilities without making it obvious that he's speaking of Shoma. 

Nathan gathers his resolve. "Thank you. I would appreciate it if you let me know. I swear to you that I will not ask you without prompting, I know you must be self-conscious about it. But, in exchange for this, I am trusting you to be honest with me when you begin to feel faint or shaky. Please, promise me this." 

Shoma finds that Nathan's hand on his chest is an odd sensation. How Shoma wishes fixing hearts was that easy - to just reach in and repair it. He has heard that surgeries exist, risky though they may be, in other countries. But not in Tzigane. Not successful ones, anyway. And of course with the war, he hasn’t been able to leave the country.

"I promise," Shoma says, and means it. He will do his best to tell Nathan, though it might take a few tries for him to get used to the idea of telling Nathan that he isn't feeling well when instinctively he wants to hide his ailment even more. But he’s dedicated to the effort of trying. Nathan deserves that honesty, and even more than that, Shoma  _ wants _ to give it.

Abruptly, Shoma realizes that Nathan and he have been on the ground for a while. Which means Nathan has been down on his bad leg for a while in a weird position. He moves to try to lift his weight off of Nathan carefully. "Oh, your leg. Are you alright?"

Nathan blinks, having nearly forgotten that it was a problem at all. As soon as Shoma brings it up, though, as soon as his attention is brought back to it, he pulls in a pained gasp. "Oh." He shifts slightly, and carefully helps Shoma to sit up. He reaches to touch his own hip tentatively, and when he brings his hand away, his fingers are red. "Oh, dear."  
  
Shoma moves into a crouched position, away from Nathan, to give him room as soon as he sees blood. He feels a little light headed still, but a fresh rush of anxiety is plenty to get him moving again. "You're  _ bleeding _ ." He isn't sure if he should touch it. They need to stave off the bleeding until they can get Nathan back to a doctor. Shoma unbuttons his shirt quickly and balls it up to place over Nathan's wound. The black won’t show the blood, and he didn't care that he was shirtless or if the shirt is damaged. It’s just a shirt. His mind is racing with far more important concerns.

"We'll take my horse. I'll ride us back. Can you stand?"

Idly, Nathan observes with relief that Shoma is already almost on his feet, and he's clearly feeling better. Nathan's glad for that. These sorts of attacks that Shoma gets in his heart must be frightening, but if he’s been dealing with it for his entire life, then of course he must have some idea of his own limits. So, that's good. That’s a relief.

Nathan can only distract himself from his own situation for a moment, though; now that he's thinking about the fact that he’s bleeding, he's  _ over _ thinking it, and he's starting to feel a little lightheaded. He doesn't mean to be upsetting Shoma. Honestly, a few popped stitches isn't that big of a deal. It's fixable. But, oh, Shoma is so concerned. And... Stripping?

"Oh, you don't--" But it's too late, Shoma's already got his shirt off and he's balling it up to press it against Nathan's leg. "It's fine. Shoma, really." He puts his hands over Shoma's, and then pulls back immediately as he realizes his touch is leaving bloody streaks on the back of Shoma's hands. 

"I can ride back. It's fine. Just, if you can help me up." He absently wipes his fingers off on his shirt, and shifts to stretch his left leg out, putting his weight on his right and starting to rise. 

It's not fine. Shoma didn't face combat, and while he had seen a few honorable public suicides, bleeding was still a very bad thing. And what if Nathan hurt his leg more? This is his fault. His stupid heart's fault. Now, he’s worried not just about Nathan’s health, but also that the day has been ruined and Nathan won’t want to ride with him again.

Shoma moves to help Nathan up, keeping his thoughts to himself. He is barely bothered by the blood smear on his hands, but he is sure he will be later, when all is said and done. "That's a lot of moving... But I believe you if you think you can handle it." Shoma wanted to fix his mistakes, but he knew his limits. He wouldn't forgive himself for this.

"Really,” Nathan insists. “When it happened, I had to walk off the field. It will be fine."   
  
Shoma helps Nathan hobble over to Summer, who seems to be patiently waiting for Nathan, then offers his hands clasped together for Nathan to use as a step up to get onto the back of his horse. If only Alex was here.

"I will fetch a doctor once we are close enough."

Nathan almost argues. He hasn't met any Tzigane doctors, but he's not sure he wants to bother with them, for a number of reasons. Partly because the initial surgery had been done by his own doctors, and he knew medicine had developed very differently in this country. Would a Tzigane doctor even know what he needed? 

He also isn't sure he wants anyone else in this country to see the extent of the damage. He knows he's already being judged for the limp he hasn't been able to entirely hide. 

But, to put Shoma at his ease, maybe... Well, he'll just have to see, when he meets the doctor, whoever they are.

Once he's standing, Nathan ties Shoma's already well destroyed shirt around his hip and thigh. The pressure will help.

Nathan hates needing the help, but he can't quite get the height he needs to get his bad leg over Summer's back from the right stirrup, so he uses Shoma's offer to get the angle right. 

Once he's got his seat adjusted, he leans forward to stroke Summer's dark mane. "You're being very brave. Can you take me home now?" 

She whinnies softly, which Nathan takes to mean yes, and he takes up her reins in a light hand, giving her a gentle nudge with his right knee.

Shoma and Winter ride just ahead of them, which is fine by Nathan.

What is less fine by Nathan is the tableau waiting for them outside the stables as they approach. Alex and Maia, he expected. Itsuki standing with them, looking sour, was less expected but is not a problem.

No, what makes Nathan's leg throb and his stomach drop to his toes is Shoma's father standing at the front of them all, stone-faced and posture poker-stiff. Nathan spits a curse in his native tongue.

"他妈的该死的."  _ Fucking damn it. _

 

♔

 

Shoma spots his father and Itsuki way off in the distance and straightens his spine, despite the lack of clothing on his torso. One learns to adapt quickly when your father is king.

He makes Winter move faster so he can give Nathan, following behind, a little bit of extra time and swings off of her as though he hadn't just fainted several minutes ago. He looks to Alex first. " _ [Help him off his horse, please.] _ "    
  
Shoma trusts Alex not to freak at the sight of blood, and hand his reins to Maia, who takes Winter away. Shoma turns to a servant who is already approaching him with a fresh shirt. It's a black button-down, which he puts on and chooses not to close, leaving it hanging open. " _ [Fetch Takahashi-sensei for me.] _ " The servant bows and takes their leave.

Shoma bows respectfully to his father once he is before him and when he straightens and meets his immovable scowl.

" _ [You revealed our secret to him, didn't you?] _ "

" _ [Father, I-] _ "

Shoma manages to catch a glimpse of the back of his father's hand a split second before he feels the strike, strong enough to turn his head entirely, across his cheek. He stands in place, enduring it, but clenches his fists.

" _ [You fool. You have risked too much. Now he knows the greatest weakness of our country's crown prince.] _ "

" _ [I thought we were at peace.] _ "

Shoma swears he feels another slap coming and flinches when his father moves, but instead his father places his hands on either side of Shoma's shoulders. He has no choice but to meet his father's gaze, and from a distance of only a mere handsbreadth. Honestly, this is worse than a slap.

" _ [What do I always tell you?] _ " When Shoma does not answer, his father continues. " _ [Wars are not won in a day. His people lost and he was given to us against his will. I do not trust him. Neither should you.] _ "

His father releases his grip and turns to Itsuki with a small nod. Itsuki bows and Shoma follows suit as their father takes their leave.

 

♔

 

Shoma rides ahead, which is fine by Nathan. He's in just enough pain to make an absolute idiot of himself if he's not careful, and the day has been so eventful already that Nathan's not sure he can be careful.

Summer approaches Alex directly, and Nathan glazes over a bit at how rapid and terse the conversation between Alex, Maia, and Shoma is, and not a word of it familiar to him.

Alex gives him a sympathetic look as he raises his arms to Nathan, offering him a hand down. Maia has already led Winter away, and Nathan makes a gesture to Alex that he can take Summer as well. The taller man looks concerned, which Nathan can't blame him for, as he must look an absolute mess, streaked in blood and leaning too hard on his good leg. But still, he gestures again and with a slight bow, Alex retreats.

Nathan's head snaps around when he hears the resounding smack, and his mind blanks out again, feeling no pain as when he was gripped by fear. But this is different. Now, he’s seeing red entirely unrelated to the blood on his hands.

Tzigane may have thought of Nathan and his people as barbaric, but in this moment Nathan understands the truth: by Praeludian sensibilities, Tzigane has hidden barbarisms of its own, deep beneath its reserved mien.  The thought of a parent striking their adult child - much less the  _ king _ striking the  _ prince _ \- is so distasteful, so wholly alien and unconscionable, that Nathan is instantly a hairsbreadth away from marching over, bum leg or no, and grabbing the king to demand an explanation.

Before he can put motion to this thought, Nathan finds himself held back, upper held tightly in Prince Itsuki’s grip. Nathan turns to the younger prince, readying a snarl of offense, that dies just as quickly as Itsuki chastizes him-- in  _ High Praeludian _ . The words are spoken with an odd stilted cadence, but complete competence. The simple shock of hearing his own mother tongue almost prevents Nathan from hearing the meaning of Itsuki’s words.

"沉默，傻瓜。你只會造成更大的麻煩。"  _ Silence, fool. You will only cause greater trouble. _

Nathan blinks at him blankly, and Itsuki releases him with a scowl and follows his father away.

Nathan feels sick. How could things have fallen to pieces so quickly?

 

♔

 

Shoma remains where he stands for much longer than strictly necessary, lost in thought with a far off gaze. 

He trusts Nathan. This is a fact. Why question it? To not trust him seems painful.    
  
Shoma struggles to come back to reality, head ringing with the sting of the blow and the tangle of his thoughts.  He’s helped when a damp cloth is into his hands by a servant, meant for Shoma to rid his hands of Nathan's blood smears.

Blood that Nathan had shed to help him. His father was wrong. Nathan was trustworthy. If anything, Shoma felt that Tzigane had a lot to learn from Praeludium. Nathan had already taught him so much. And the situation isn’t now - and perhaps wasn't ever - simply black and white. Tzigane could surely teach Praeludium things as well, but if his father was acting this way, acting like they were still at war, then no progress would be made. 

Shoma takes the cloth with a soft thanks to the servant and wipes the blood off his hands, swearing resolution to himself. He will strive to be better than his father. He turns to see Nathan, standing there... angry. Livid, more like. It's a very intense look... One that makes Shoma's blood run colder than normal. Has he done something offensive?

"Nasan?" Shoma's voice is tentative.

 

♔

 

Shoma sounds almost frightened when he says Nathan's name, and it sends Nathan’s stomach into a lurch. Shoma should never feel that way. Nathan closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. Shoma will be undoubtedly alarmed if Nathan were to give in to his anger, to snap or shout. He needs to take a moment, and he crosses the short distance between them with purpose, seeking that reassurance.    
  
Shoma rushes toward him, clearly seeking to close the gap between them for Nathan’s sake. Nathan could laugh. Yes, his limp is as bad as Shoma has ever seen it, maybe worse, but Nathan doesn’t care. It hurts, sure, but physical pain was fleeting and fixable. The deeper emotional hurts are those which are worse, those which cut deeper and are more difficult to address. 

Nathan reaches for Shoma, curling his fingers to touch the clean backs of his knuckles to Shoma's chin. He turns his head to the side, searching his cheek to see if a mark had been left. Nothing so far, not that Nathan felt any better about that. Bruises take time.

"他怎麼敢。Are you alright, 郎君?"  _ How dare he. _

 

♔

 

Shoma lets Nathan move his head to view where he’s been hit. It’s already begun to stop hurting, and Shoma is familiar with the feeling. It doesn’t alarm him.    
  
"大丈夫。I am fine." Shoma doesn’t volunteer the information as to how often this scenario had played out in the past. Nathan doesn’t need more reasons to be furious. "You, however, are not. Please, Nathan."    
  
Shoma tugs on Nathan's arm, hoping to get it around his shoulders to take the weight off of Nathan's leg entirely. A chair, wooden and basic, appears behind them, clearly taken from the stables. The servant who brought it disappears as quickly as they had appeared.

"Like hell." Nathan hisses between his teeth, leaning in to tug Shoma's shirt closed. He still feels a little lightheaded, unsteady on his bad leg, a haze of red in the back of his mind screaming at him for being a coward. He should have said something to the King. He should have stopped this.

Nathan knows damn well that Shoma hates and fears pity more than anything else. It's obvious in the way he carries himself, and in the ways he has thus far reacted when his condition has gotten the better of him. And Nathan does not pity him- pity is for those who don't have the strength to overcome hardships. Shoma is still here, alive and beautiful and so strong, though he's been dealing with this all of his life. Nathan does not pity him at all. Especially not because of an illness that no one could have ever anticipated. 

But this, this interaction with his father, which Shoma just stood there and accepted as though this was natural and normal and, by the sky,  _ acceptable--! _ This is beyond Nathan's ability to comprehend. 

It's not as though this kind of abuse is unheard of in Praeludium, but like thievery and prostitution, it's the sort of behaviors only suited to commoners. The idea of any adult noble striking another in the face like that... It's not even that it's illegal. There's no protocol in place for that kind of insult, because it's completely unimaginable.

Nathan realizes slowly that his breathing is coming in harsh pants. A combination of pain and rage is making him quite insensible. He knows he needs to calm down, for Shoma's sake as much as his own, but it’s just so hard. 

Shoma is helping Nathan to sit down in a chair before he has even realized that the chair was there, and Nathan reflexively leans onto his right hip, stretching his left leg out. His hand, already bloodied enough, shifts to untie Shoma's discarded shirt from around it, and he starts to cautiously prod at the wound, trying to figure out the extent of the damage.

"It really looks worse than it is." He says at last with a sigh. His voice is still tight, and he lets out a little frustrated growl. He isn't angry with Shoma, at all, and he hates the idea that Shoma might think he is. "It's bleeding a lot because the stitches tore at the skin. But the deeper damage has not been aggravated." 

While it's probably true that Shoma is not fine, Shoma doesn’t want to discuss it at length. Not now, anyway. It's not unheard of in Tzigane for a father to discipline his child in this manner, and Shoma has not been able to find a way to break his father's habit. He takes the brunt of the abuse, verbal and physical, for Itsuki's sake and for the sake of those around him. Mercifully, he has not seen their father raise his hand at his brother, as it is very likely that if their father did so, Shoma would commit treason on that day. Shoma can at least recognize that it probably would bother Nathan if he learned that it had been a very long while since he had been struck in this manner, rather than be a comfort, and so he does not offer this information.

Shoma rubs Nathan's back gently as his breathing becomes harsher, trying to calm him in some way. Nathan is angry on his account, which is sweet in a very Nathan way, but concerning in another manner. The effect of his anger on his own person seems to not have even registered to Nathan as a problem, even as it multiplies his already substantial state of unhealth.

Nathan is poking his wounds so callously, with a detached sort of curiosity far better suited to the adventures of children exploring their world, prodding a field mouse or frog to see what it will do when it is jabbed. It is unsettling to see Nathan apply the same sort of dispassion to his own body.    
  
Shoma kneels at Nathan’s side, feeling uneasy. Nathan's odd way of handling his wounds, dismissing them as insignificant while he is literally bleeding at the hip, is something Shoma can’t help but weirdly marvel at. But also, particularly in this moment, he finds it mildly irritating. Nathan could at least show some modicum of concern for his own well being! 

Shoma is doing his best to calm Nathan down, and honestly, now that the king is long gone, Nathan is rapidly calming. This isn't perfect by any means, of course. If this happens again in Nathan’s presence, if the king strikes Shoma again -- Nathan might not be able to restrain himself. This time, he had only succeeded in doing so with Itsuki’s intervention.   
  
"I spoke out of turn and against him," Shoma is explaining softly. "He acts like we are still at war when we are not and I am tired of it. It doesn't excuse this--" Shoma adds quickly before Nathan can object. "But please, be careful.”   
  
Nathan looks up at Shoma's explanation, frowning and hating every second of it. Hating how Shoma explains the situation with such dispassion. He’s tired of it, as if this is something that he had been able and willing to deal with for so long. Something he’s accustomed to.  But then Shoma continues, his voice strained raw.

“I don't... I could not stand seeing you executed." Shoma swallows hard. In Nathan's time here, he hasn't yet seen a Tzigane execution of a noble and so he’s likely unaware of the nature of such a thing. It isn't just a beheading. Shoma does not want to see Nathan be compelled to commit suicide publicly and then be beheaded for not dying fast enough.

Nathan blinks. "Oh." Of course, execution is absolutely a possibility. Shoma had spoken out of turn and been struck for it. Nathan, speaking similarly out of turn, would die for it. That was obvious.   
  
He sighs, and hangs his head. "If he's so unconvinced of our intentions for peace, why did he agree to this?" he mutters, running a hand through his hair without really thinking about the streaks of blood that his fingers leave in the curls. "I don't regret knowing you, being with you. But if he never intended to treat me as anything other than a dangerous wild animal..." Nathan trails off. “It would not be a difficulty for him to see that wild animal killed, would it?”

Shoma doesn’t have an answer. Why  _ did  _ his father agree to the negotiations, agree to the marriage, in the first place? He suspected that there was some kind of ultimatum made between the king, his advisors, and the negotiators. Shoma himself hadn't been allowed in on the negotiating table. His best guess was that, whenever the king were to step down or pass, the new era of peace could begin... which would not sit well in his father's mind, thus giving rise to his hatred for Nathan. Nathan represented a future without the king.

Well, it all turned out in Shoma's best interest, no matter the reasoning. Shoma might've organically fallen in love with Nathan had they met over negotiations. But in this way, they were guaranteed to meet, and so they did.   
  
Nathan shakes his head again. "I just don't know what else I'm supposed to do. I'm out of place here. I'm beginning to worry I always will be."   
  
"You have a place." Shoma says firmly, not quite understanding the full feeling behind what Nathan was saying. Shoma’s Common is still a bit rough around the edges. "Right here. With me. But, if you want some other duties of your own, I'm sure we can find something."

"I know that," Nathan says. "At your side is where I am happy to be. Even to be so ignored by many of your people, that is not unusual to me. I was all but invisible in my own home before I became a war hero." He rolls his eyes a bit at that, because it sounds extremely churlish to call oneself a war hero. "I simply mean that... Oh, I don't know. Just that I will never be Tzigane. And I know that and so does everyone else. They will never accept me as a ruler."   
  
Shoma understands, he thinks. Nathan is the youngest of five, a son in a matriarchal society, so he had no chance at the throne. But to be entirely ignored? That must have been a hard life in a different way. Nathan went to war, and became a war hero, though he didn't seem to like that title very much. Was it only the title that rankled? Or did the intense attention of being made a figurehead of his country’s ambitions sit uneasily on Nathan’s shoulders?   
  
But the war has ended, and now once more, Nathan has been placed into a position where it seems more likely he’d be ignored than respected, and he seems ready to accept that without question. Shoma doesn’t agree.   
  
"When I become king, they will accept you." Shoma feels so sure about this, somehow. In whatever ways the fates weave their future tapestry, Shoma would be king, and Nathan would be at his side. This he knows for certain.  
  
"And until then, please, please, be careful. I... I love you far too much now to see you killed over something like this." 

Common doesn’t possess the vocabulary that Tzigane does, the variety of words by which to express the degrees of love one could have for another. Instead it has only one word, and that one word alone doesn’t feel like enough, but Shoma uses it anyway, making an effort. It seems as good a time as any to confess that he is already so very attached to Nathan.

  
♔

 

_ “I love you. Far too much.” _

Nathan looks up at that, blinking and slowly smiling. He’s not sure how Shoma can be so sweet. He was lying on the ground unconscious less than an hour ago. Ten minutes ago he'd still had streaks of Nathan's blood all over his hands. And five minutes ago his father struck him across the face as though he were a petulant hound begging at the table. Yet here he is, trying to reassure Nathan that he belongs here, that he has a place to be. And telling him that he is loved. There’s only one way Nathan can respond.  
  
"Oh. I love you too."   
  
"本当ですか？" Shoma sits up straighter, moving closer to Nathan with a small bounce. He’s clearly trying, and failing, to hide the huge smile that is quickly spreading across his face, and Nathan knows now that there’s no limit to how endearing his husband can be. "Really? You're sure?"   
  
Nathan knows he’ll always be happy - and proud - to be able to cause such a smile. He leans toward Shoma, touching brow to brow, and smiles too. "I am sure. I really am." He seals the words with a kiss.

  
♔  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They said the thiiiiiing! :D Time to squee.
> 
> ♚
> 
> **Content Warnings:**
> 
> Blood: Nathan opens one of his wounds while trying to help Shoma. He bleeds a lot, but isn't in immediate mortal danger. He does get the blood all over a few things though.
> 
> Physical Abuse: King Uno strikes Shoma violently across the face. Shoma is used to this, as it has happened before. He dissociates a bit, but shakes out of it without difficulty.
> 
> ♚
> 
> Did you enjoy the easter eggs in these past two chapters? We're especially pleased with our wordplay in making Vivaldi's Seasons into literal *warhorses*. Heh. Get it? 
> 
> We crack ourselves up.
> 
> ♚
> 
> We're really grateful for all the comments you've left us, and we're going to begin replying to them as much as we can, to show our appreciation :)
> 
> ♔
> 
> Thank you for reading! In two weeks, please join us for chapter 9.


End file.
